Marc D. Goldfinger

Geoffrey Neil, writer of Dire Means, which deals directly with homelessness, talks with Marc D. Goldfinger.

Posted by Klaus

Goldfinger: I was homeless and upon reading the section of Dire Means where Mark Denny was being treated as if he was homeless, it really brought me back to how I felt in regards to the way people treated me. How were you able to do this so accurately? What experiences in your life helped you write this part of Dire Means?

Neil: First of all, thank you. I have, so far, avoided homelessness, so when a person like you, who has survived both homelessness and drug addiction, says that I accurately portrayed a homeless person’s point of view, it’s an enormous compliment. I don’t presume to understand the harshness of living on the streets, however, I do know the feeling of being avoided or placed under suspicion for something that I cannot help –my appearance. Trying to date while attending predominately white schools, being pulled over by police and detained and harassed because I “fit the description” and a host of other experiences have given me some insight into feeling “different.” In some places, if I walk into a store wearing sweats and a baseball cap after not having shaved for a couple days, I see women clutch purses tighter, men keep a closer eye and concern spread on the clerk’s face before I smile to cut the tension. None of these reactions happen if I enter wearing a tie. Stereotypes exist and I understand that. I may react to my own prejudices sometimes. These experiences have given me a clear sense of how it feels to be avoided and suspected. To write the scenes in Dire Means from the homeless perspective, I exaggerated the feelings I’ve experienced, hoping to capture the abject feelings of a homeless person when he/she is simultaneously conspicuous and ignored.

Goldfinger: The difference between a writer and a stage performer is that writers work in isolation, without immediate feedback. Did you have dark times while writing this book, and how did you get through them?

Neil: I’m okay with the isolation and sometimes I embrace it. I prefer to write with the door closed, in bed with a laptop. My family can always interrupt me, but generally they don’t. I take the isolation a step further by needing absolute quiet in the room when I write. If I hear music, my sentences come out staccato and screwed up -and it’s much worse if the music has lyrics. When I turn off the music and read my sentences back, I’ll inevitably hold down the backspace button until the gibberish disappears, and then start over. As for the “dark times,” becoming too involved in my story is a problem I welcome. The opposite problem is far more frustrating. A couple of times while writing Dire Means, I felt like I was being sucked into a dark emotional whirlpool. One of those times was while writing Pop’s (the “villain”) perspective on the tour of the underground sty. He took so much pride in his death chambers. In order to illustrate the scientific method (and glee) Pop took while “dieting” those who abuse the homeless, I did some rather extensive medical research on the stages of dehydration and starvation. Initially, I illustrated every symptom in the victims from skin discoloration to liver and muscle glycogenolysis to the agony of a completely dried stomach and nasal lining. (Yes, I agree, that’s too much.) Finally, I scrapped all the physiologic symptoms, realizing it’s just as terrifying to simply describe being sealed in a soft, well-ventilated, underground, suicide-proof chamber with no hope of escape and let the reader’s imagination work out the 10-or-so days worth of details. That section was darker than I expected and I had to write it in shorter sessions.

Goldfinger: Tell the readers of Spare Change News a little about your life. Go anywhere you choose with this question.

Neil: I grew up in a wonderful town in upstate New York called Natural Bridge. My dad was the town doctor, and Mom spent all her time with my two sisters and me. We enjoyed an ideal country lifestyle with a nice house, chickens, ducks, horses, fishing, the most fantastic friends and anything a child could want. I feel fortunate to have experienced my first taste of life there and still call it home. After leaving New York at the age of ten, we moved back and forth between the east and west coast three times, settling in southern California. Ours was a fairly conservative Seventh-Day Adventist home, with regular church attendance on Saturdays. For high school I attended a private boarding academy on Sunset Beach in Central California on Monterey Bay. College was back in Southern California where I earned a BA degree in communication, preparing me for absolutely no career. After a number of years in sales, I’ve settled into self-employment, providing computer support to a number of clients in Los Angeles. I’ve always enjoyed writing to entertain and have kept many personal journals over the years. A few years ago a close friend of mine gave me an opportunity to write a weekly column for some local newspapers. I enjoyed that and decided to take on the task of completing a novel. I fantasized about slapping a book on to the kitchen table, pointing to it and saying, “I wrote that.” It happened last year with Dire Means and now I have a taste for more.

Goldfinger: If, suddenly, civilization all around you was devastated by a storm or an act of terror, etc. and you and your family became homeless, such as in New Orleans, what do you think you would do? You create the scenario.

Neil: I’m an innately paranoid person, so I imagine these scenarios all the time. Living in southern California, the biggest threat to us is probably a devastating earthquake. My wife and I have taken some preparatory steps. We have some stashed cash hidden within walking distance of our house. We always have extra water on hand and plenty of canned goods. If our car wasn’t crushed in our underground garage, I imagine surviving in our SUV until we could access resources to rebuild. If that’s not possible, I have a number of wealthy friends nearby who would let us stay in their furnished garages or pool houses –and I’ve actually discussed it with one of them! It may sound ridiculous to imagine this, but it isn’t. In California, unless you own multiple homes and a helicopter you keep in your back yard, you could find yourself stranded in a matter of seconds. Thank you, Marc, for scaring me half to death all over again! I realize that unexpected homelessness is a risk and reality for more people than ever in our economy. For me, realizing my own vulnerability keeps my empathy alive when I see people who need help after experiencing misfortune.

Goldfinger: Is writing your primary calling or do you have other major career interests?

Neil: I enjoy writing enough to make it a career, but, of course, that’s dependent on sales. I’ll keep writing either way. It has become therapeutic for me. Unlike my computer job, results in my stories always happen just as I wish them to!

Goldfinger: What would you tell someone who wishes to pursue a career in writing? Assume that this person is really writing and not just talking about writing.

Neil: Write often and a lot, no matter what. And then regularly convince some people who don’t love you to read it, and tell you what they think of it –the majority of their opinions will probably be the truth. Then, if you love writing, keep writing despite what the people said. If you’re serious about writing you won’t wait for the perfect story to come to mind, or a high powered agent to sign you, or a dream publishing contract; you’ll just write and write. Mark Twain said, “Write for no pay until someone offers to pay.” That’s been my mindset. It requires discipline for me to sit down and write daily when I’m tired and when there’s a perfectly good television nearby. I write a great volume of words each day, but most are technical, for my work. My schedule forces me to do any creative writing in smaller doses at night. I try to do 500-1000 words a session when drafting. On the weekend I can do more. I know those numbers are nothing to some writers, but that’s the pace I seem to be able to afford at the moment. My personal record was about 4,800 words in one day, but that night my wrists ached; I freaked out and rested four days –ruining any advantage the record gained me!

Goldfinger: Dire Means has a Karmic theme. Do you believe what goes around comes around? Or do you think, at times, that life can be random chaos?

Neil: Yes, I believe what goes around comes around. My belief in Karma doesn’t preclude my belief in God. I think people who don’t believe in Karma are confused because they insist that they should be able to recognize the form and timing of payback –good or bad. (Who doesn’t want the jerk that just cut you off to get a traffic ticket in the next block?) In my favorite novels, Karma plays out in a simple, much more direct and identifiable way than it does in real life. I think you’ve correctly detected my fascination with it in Dire Means.

Goldfinger: What, assuming your writing career takes off and you find yourself with more money than you ever thought you would make, would you do to help others in the world? Obviously, we pick and choose where we give. Tell Spare Change News readers a little bit about your choices and why you make them.

Neil: My wife and I already give a minimum of 10% of all we make to various charities. Our choices are based on causes that we discover and that move us. Having lots of money would change nothing except that we’d be able to give a larger percentage. Homeless charities are always good candidates for our giving and anyone who reads Dire Means will understand why I’ll always give to charities that benefit the homeless.

Goldfinger: Let our readers know how to find Dire Means. Talk a little bit about your future plans, both in computer support and writing.

Neil: Dire Means is available in soft cover only from online retailers for the time being. This helped to keep it affordable. Barnes & Noble and Amazon are the largest retailers to offer the physical copies for sale online. It now has wide e-distribution and you can have a copy of Dire Means for only $2.99 –and that’s after having read a free sample of 50% through Smashwords.com. Future plans – I’m approximately one-third of the way through my next novel entitled Human Resources. One character from Dire Means has been brought forward. Hopefully this will give some additional satisfaction to those who enjoyed my first book. It will be published sometime in early 2011. Meanwhile, I continue my computer support business in Los Angeles, funding my livelihood and my writing.

Goldfinger: Is there anything else you want to tell us about? Open field here.

Neil: Yes, I’m flattered that you wanted to interview me -thank you. I also want to remind readers (if they happen to be homeless) of something that’s easy to forget: that many of us “housed” people truly care about the plight of the homeless even though our concern may not be obvious in public. Some of us want to help, but are fearful –particularly if mental illness or intoxication is apparent. The braver of us volunteer at shelters while yet others prefer to swipe a pen across a check to help. Out here in Los Angeles, there is a radio talk show host who annually has a special show during the holiday season where he plays soft, soothing holiday music in the background while he invites listeners to call in and simply give their opinion of homeless people. The act is a tongue-in-cheek exposition of ignorance. I’m always amazed at how many people call to vent their hatred for those they call “eye sores.” Caller after caller rings in to spew hatred and advertise their ignorance by blasting homeless people for not getting a job. The host says very little, masterfully presenting the irony of “live” hate speech overlaid on soft songs like Joy to the World. This makes a powerful point and I always get out of my car vowing not to be like the callers.

Neil: The theme of Dire Means came from my frustration that goodwill toward men hasn’t been strong enough to solve the problem of homelessness. I decided to channel my anger and frustration into my own dark fantasy where love and a feeling of brotherhood could be forced –as a last resort. I hope that anyone who reads my book will recognize my desire to portray homeless people as important and kindness to them as honorable.

Dire Means by Geoffrey Neil

Posted by Klaus

We will never have peace in the world until men everywhere recognize that ends are not cut off from means, because the means represent the ideal in the making, and the end in process, and ultimately you can’t reach good ends through evil means, because the means represent the seed and the end represents the tree. — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I found this book through a friend on line; it seems that stores generally don’t carry it. It is a story about one man and his organization who decides that he will end homelessness once and for all.

Now Spare Change News is a paper that deals with homeless issues so I felt duty-bound to read and report on this book which, unfortunately, has not received much press. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I thought I would be slogging through a 300+ page book, but like I said, because it dealt directly with homelessness, I felt I could not ignore it.

Was I in for a surprise!! Before I had read ten pages I was gripped with the desire to find out what would happen next. Then, even after I was hooked, the intensity began to build and I found myself totally engaged with the lead character, a 28 year old computer techie named Mark Denny, and the situation into which he found himself thrust.

You know the expression, “No good deed goes unpunished.” Well, it certainly applies here, and by page 36 Mr. Denny finds himself knee-deep in it. Little does he, or the reader, know that upcoming twists and turns will find Mark Denny a public figure, heroic in scope, with his position constantly shifting.

If you have never been homeless, you must read this book because you will, through the author’s skill, find yourself identifying with what it is like to be homeless. If you have been, or are homeless, you should read this book because you will find yourself saying, “Yeah, I’ve been there; I know what this feels like.”

Well done, Geoffrey Neil, well done.

As I said earlier, I thought this book would be a chore to report on. How wrong I was! I found myself gripped by the tension and flipping from page to page. I literally couldn’t put the book down.

It was a weekend and my wife, as understanding as she is, said to me, “Well, are you going to spend the weekend with the book or me?” in more ways than just verbally. But I was hooked.

From the moment that, for selfish reasons, Mark Denny decides to help two scam artists harassing drivers for “gas money,” he finds himself in a predicament that would give PTSD to anyone to the moment, soon after, where he is attempting to rescue a “homeless” man from a certain suicide because he really wants to be a good guy, the story whips into the fury of a hurricane.

The story takes place in Santa Monica, California. People are disappearing at the rate of one a day. We’re talking business executives, rich housewives, arrogant teen-agers, average middle-class citizens, not homeless people at all.

Then, days later, they start to reappear, dead, with camera footage from digital cameras hung around their necks showing them abusing, either verbally or physically, homeless folks. Their Cause of death—starvation and thirst.

Santa Monica goes into panic mode. All of a sudden no one wants to abuse, through neglect or otherwise, homeless people or people who appear down on their luck.

Because of his selfless act on the roof, saving a “homeless” man from suicide, Mark Denny’s hero status brings him into contact with the very people who are “disappearing,” the abusers. And he finds that, somehow, someway, he is the only person who can bring the horrific means these people use to end homelessness to a halt. That is, if he can survive.

It is amazing how quickly one can go from hero status to fugitive status. Mark Denny finds himself brought into this organization which operates with technological expertise, lethal manipulation, and is a trusted information disposal company which, by its very nature, escapes suspicion and is held in extremely high regard by the business community.

Imagine having access to financial information, medical information, family history, etc. and using this knowledge to alter society for “altruistic means.”

Mark Denny, the hero, the computer expert, the homeless sympathizer, is brought into this organization and, little by little, the doors are closing behind him, and, before he knows it, there is no way out.

I could say more but why would I want to? This is a book that must be read. I guarantee you will be turning pages and ignoring everyone around you.

What’s the difference between a homeless person and yourself? One wrong corner turned, a hurricane, a mugging or an information specialist with a Taser.

Access to Dire Means can also be found on Facebook. I had mine specially ordered from the Harvard Coop. Dire Means copyright, 2009.

Please Note: much more on Goeffrey Neil can be found via his web page by clicking here…

A Bureaucratic Limbo

Posted by Klaus

Just imagine that all of a sudden you die; you find out that there may be no God. You’re thrust into a world full of drifting ghosts like yourself, all distraught because no one knows where to go. You talk to other ghosts and some of them say that there is a way to get out of the regions of nowhere, but you have to find someone or something that has the answers.

The ghosts may not have all the answers, but they can start you on your way, and you are warned that there are roadblocks. Some things you say will open doorways that will bring you closer to heaven or hell, but if you say the wrong thing or leave something out, you are stuck adrift in the land of howling winds, and bridges made of bones and skulls that lead nowhere.

It is never dark but there is a fog all around you; a ghost may pass by ten feet away from you; you can hear them moan, but if you move in the wrong direction, you cannot connect.

Sounds like a bureaucracy, right? Have you ever tried to apply to a government program that assists the jobless, the hungry, or the mentally adrift, and found that something you say puts more roadblocks in your path? Then you have to clear those blocks before you can go further.

Or you’re assigned a caseworker, and he or she guides you into a maze that doesn’t get you what you need or want. You find yourself disqualified or set back and you have to go around the circle one more time before you can get help. The caseworker is holding out rings for you to grab, as if you were on a merry-go-round, and you hopefully grab the ring, but it is not gold — it’s a lead ring that isn’t worth anything.

If that wasn’t bad enough, what if the caseworker thought, because he was misinformed, that it was the right ring for you but he didn’t know that a more appropriate ring would have gotten you rolling in the direction you wanted to go? The caseworker was unaware of the right ring to give you.

Let’s climb the ladder of the bureaucracy. Let’s say, on the third level, two levels below the Benevolent Demons who make the rules, is a Guiding Spirit who actually knows about the programs that can help the “consumer,” which is the term for those who must apply for things they need. But, because of rules set up by the Benevolent Demons, the Guiding Spirit can only speak to the Secondary Gods of the agencies where the caseworkers work to help the consumers get what they need.

Now, let’s add some interesting roadblocks. To efficiently serve the consumers, the caseworkers should have an ideal caseload of 40 to 50 people. However, the numbers game, which determines the allotment of money to hire the caseworkers, may be rigged by, let’s say, the population increase or decrease in the state where the organization is located. So the organization is only allotted enough money to hire caseworkers to work at one satellite — or just enough so the caseload of the caseworkers is over 160 consumers at any given time.

This means that the efficiency level of the caseworkers is crippled, and not only do they not have the time to research what programs are appropriate for each consumer, they also don’t even have enough time to find out what programs are available. Why is this?

The Secondary Gods of each satellite program have so much information to manage that they don’t have the time to dispense the information that exists to the caseworkers. In addition to this snafu, the Guiding Spirit, who is aware of all the programs and just might have time to meet with the caseworkers in groups to dispense the information about programs that exist, is not allowed to talk to the caseworkers directly. The Guiding Spirit can only talk to the Secondary Gods of the satellites of the agencies if he has permission to do so from the Benevolent Demons — kind of like entities who are so removed from the realities of the situation that they block important avenues through which vital information can flow.

For example, let’s say there was a program that would give food vouchers to consumers who needed them because they had lost their jobs. Imagine that there are enough food vouchers to serve 90 consumers, but only 30 consumers are aware of the existence of this program because the Guiding Spirit is blocked, by one manner or another, from dispensing the information about the program directly to the caseworkers who need this information. This is because they are dealing with the consumers who would most benefit from having these food vouchers.

Imagine a series of bridges built of bones and skulls and some of them lead to dead ends and others lead to the food vouchers, but you must count the steps when you are on the bridge. If, when you get to the caseworker ghost, you don’t know the number of the steps you have taken to get there, you must turn around and start over again.

Maybe you counted the number of steps and are facing your caseworker, but he does not have the information of the food voucher program, so you are blocked again. The caseworker ten feet away in the fog has the information, but you can’t see him, so again you are blocked. The Secondary God of your satellite is so overwhelmed by the numbers that, as much as he wants to help the caseworkers underneath, he doesn’t realize that this particular caseworker doesn’t know about the food voucher program.

Oh yes, another snafu. There are time limits to these programs. If enough food vouchers are not given out during the Year of Our Lord within which they were allotted, the program is scrapped because the numbers show that there really isn’t a need for the extra food vouchers.

Ironically, the food vouchers are not extra — the consumers are lost in the fog of rules and roadblocks — but now less money will be allotted to the diverse programs that no one but the Guiding Spirit is aware of. However, the Spirit is not permitted to directly transmit the information to where it is needed because the Benevolent Demons are busy looking at numbers that don’t mean anything in reality.

Also, the caseworkers have 160 consumers to deal with and the Secondary Gods have so many caseworkers to deal with that the consumers are not told what actions they must take to get to what they need. Even if they know what they need to do, their caseworkers may not have the right assistance to dispense.

Unfortunately, this is a true story, and the facts have been altered to protect the innocent. Instead of helping people with empty stomachs, the money goes to bombing people we don’t know, blowing their legs off, and creating more enemies all over the world so that we have even less money to dispense — even if the right information were available to the right people. People with empty stomachs don’t have the money to hire lobbyists, and corporations benefit mightily from the continuation of war and are now considered to be people, and have plenty of lobbyists. So our Congress, even if it wanted the right information, doesn’t get the information it needs to re-figure the numbers so that people with empty stomachs can get to the food vouchers they don’t even know exist.

What if, when we die, even ghosts face bureaucracies and must wander in the fog unless they get lucky? The bridges are made of skulls and bones — only those who built the bridges know the truth, and they’re not saying a word.

And I’m just a ghost who got lucky.

What To Do When It Is Time To Commit Suicide

Posted by Klaus

When it is time to commit
suicide you must cut the wrist
with a longitudinal slash, the longer
the better.

When it is time to commit
suicide you must put the gun
in your mouth and then shoot
upwards toward the brain.

When it is time to commit
suicide you must take ten bags
of heroin, dump them into
the cooker, cook them well. A large
guage needle, preferably a 21 will serve
you best. Empty the hypodermic
into your vein.

When it is time to commit
suicide, make sure someone
you love is willing to do it
for you if you are unable to
do it yourself.

When it is time to commit
suicide, call a doctor that
you trust.

When it is time to commit
suicide you will think it is
time to commit suicide.

The worst thing that can happen
when you try to commit
suicide is that you might
live through it.

One theory about life is
that if you commit suicide
you must repeat everything
in your next life.

You don’t always get what
you want. Go back
to the beginning of the poem.

Splitting Wood In Hell

Posted by Klaus

The things God cannot put
right have always come back
to me. When the piece of wood
split and fell on the toad

squeezing its internal organs
out through the gaping mouth
it continued to hop
towards me, its hot eyes

staring directly into mine.
I learned that morning eyes
can scream. Squeamishly, I took
a stick and tried to push

the insides outside back
into the toad. The eyes,
the eyes, the eyes never
ceased as the stick busted

the fragile organs would not
fit down the narrow throat
of the toad. I flipped
the maul over to sledge hammer

and prayed that toad into the ground.
My stomach twists, wrenches when
I dream about those eyes. I am
ready to have my mind revoked.

The Perfect Storm

Posted by Klaus

No one is jumping from buildings
during this crash because of the
Bush parachute bail-out. The rich

get paid off with our tax dollars
while a poor woman from Boston
is put out on the street. The bank

is foreclosing on her. She will have
to move to one of those new tent
cities; they’ll call them Bushvilles

this time instead of Hoovervilles
like during the last depression.
The last depression. No one bailed

out the fat cats that time; everyone
went down except for a few
carpetbaggers and liquor dealers.

It’s the Perfect Storm this time; even
the weather is telling us we’re on the
wrong track. Hurricane Kristina, Gustave

and the war in Iraq; the greed of the CEO’s,
I’m a friend of George W. is the new
Greed Anonymous greeting. Bush

didn’t have the 7 billion dollars for child
health care but he’s got 700 billion dollars
for the cats on Wall Street; you can hear

them if you try; yowling on the top floors
in the sweet suites while the rest of us
get foreclosed and put out on the street.

A Sea of Candles

Posted by Klaus

for Sarah Hannah

You lived somewhere for very long.
But the avenues by which you
could recall it
Have been closed for new construction.– Sarah Hannah

When I hosted at the Tapestry of
Voices, Sarah was the opening
act. I didn’t have a clue

her candle was close to
being snuffed by her own
hand. The room was filled,

some seats by her students,
always a positive statement
about a teacher when those

who sit at your feet as you
speak attend a non-mandatory
event. I didn’t have a clue,

not even when her eyes met
mine how close she was to
the edge, but then I’m a counselor.

Some of her thesis focused
on Sylvia Plath when she
studied at Columbia U.,

later to teach at Wesleyan
besides playing guitar in
a heavy metal band. Heavy

metal guitar strings wrapped
around her ankles, verses of
poetry filling her throat, an

“obscure road winds me
sinister” she said, “Gas lamps
flicker” as they did on the

street where Sylvia Plath
died. Jack Spicer, according
to his own words, was killed

by his vocabulary, Sarah Hannah
was cut to pieces by her verse,
burned to beautiful dripped wax

by her own candle, a sea of candles,
a poet adrift, a light lifted by the
waves, then washed under whitecaps

on the evening of a salty wind.
A poet adrift, the fire hidden
by the mirror in her eyes.

The Birth Of Ar Lain Ta (Conclusion)

Posted by Klaus

Ar Lain Ta was a man of humble origins. His parents were farmers from the west bank of the Salween River. The terrorist but legally sanctioned army of Burma, known as the Tatmadaw, had driven his parents from their farm.

The Tatmadaw used what they called a “Four Cuts Strategy,” which meant isolating and controlling sources of food, funds, intelligence, and recruits. His father, a farmer named U Hla Pe, had been meditating, and his mother had been in the fields slicing the pods off the poppies, when the Tatmadaw arrived and began looting homes, gang-banging the wives and daughters of friends, and plundering animals and the croplands.

Instead of surrendering to them and becoming unwilling participants in the construction of a 100-mile-long railroad line from Aung Ban south to Loi Kaw, in a slave labor camp where cholera, dengue fever, yaws, blackwater fever, yellow fever, amoebic dysentery, and other antagonistic life-forms constantly raided the camps, U Hla Pe chose to slip through the fields and flee with his pregnant wife across the Salween into Mae Ark, a small Pa-O village which was controlled and protected by a benevolent lord of the opium trade named Chang Te Tzu.

Very little is known about his mother’s origins. Her name was Nang Saeng Zoom, however it is not known whether this was her given name or one that she acquired later on in her life. It is said that she loved the fields and she talked to the plants as she worked. There were some that said she was haunted by the ghosts of her ancestors.

The story about Ar Lain Ta’s mother was passed on by an old farmer in the opium den that he retired to after his day’s work was done. One day, when Chang Te Tzu was visiting the village, he became very ill with symptoms of cholera.

The diarrhea came on suddenly and violently, and his stools were filled with rice-like particles. He vomited and defecated simultaneously, and the muscles in his arms and legs knotted and contracted spasmodically, appearing to be boiling beneath his skin to all those who watched with horror.

The man collapsed and virtually seemed to shrink in size within moments. Other observers said that his skin turned to light parchment paper and began to rip in places.

At that moment, Nang Saeng Zoom appeared and light seemed to shine from her eyes as she lifted the seemingly weightless Chang Te Tzu and carried him quickly into her dwelling. His personal guard stood well away and did not interfere for they were afraid that they would be stricken with the strange malady that had infected their Lord. Normally they were afraid of nothing and would charge into battle no matter what weapons their enemies wielded, but this was something out of their realm.

Nang Saeng Zoom lit lamps and mixed potions from strange herbs that were hanging on the walls of her hut. Soon alien smells and chants mixed with the sound of moaning, and the smell of feces, vomit, and death spilled into the air. At first, the smells were weak and the chanting was soft, but like a rising wind they increased in velocity and power. Suddenly, they began to diminish and, within hours, the stench of Hell was gone and the people nearby the hut heard the voice of Chang Te Tzu singing in harmony with the sweet soprano of Nang Saeng Zoom.

It was told–and there are no villagers who will contradict this–that in the evening, Chang Te Tzu emerged from the hut of U Hla Pe with Nang Saeng Zoom on his arm. He was in such robust health that he appeared to glow. When he asked Nang Saeng Zoom what he could do for her, the only boon that she requested was that Chang Te Tzu take her soon-to-be-born son and raise him with the best education possible. When Chang Te Tzu asked her how she knew that the child would be male, she laughed. He began to laugh, also; he laughed so hard that his body shook and the laugh leaped from him to his men and coursed through the entire village like an unstoppable, titanic tide.

Three days later, when the harvest was being celebrated, Ar Lain Ta was born. It was the largest harvest in the history of the village. Soon after that day, U Hla Pe met with an unfortunate accident–the details of which are unknown–while working in the poppy fields. Six months later, Chang Te Tzu married Nang Saeng Zoom.

To this day the people speak of the wonder and magic of the times when Chang Te Tzu ruled with Nang Saeng Zoom at his side. There were those that said that she wielded the power during this era in which Chang Te Tzu’s influence spread across the land, and even reached overseas to the Americas. Of course, this is nothing but rumor and innuendo. Only the walls of their many dwellings know the truth, and they are not speaking. Yet there still remain servants from this era who might talk if they were so inclined.

However, these servants who still live now serve Ar Lain Ta, the birth son of Nang Saeng Zoom and the adopted son of Chang Te Tzu. It is said that he is everywhere at once. There are many stories told about Ar Lain Ta, the man of many names.

Some say that Ar Lain Ta speaks more than eight languages fluently. It is documented that he attended Harvard University and now has two post-graduate degrees: a doctorate in International Relations and a doctorate in Ethnobotany.

There are many stories about Ar Lain Ta, yet there are not many people who have specific memories of meeting him. Many students say that he was like a phantom; sometimes they noticed him and sometimes they did not. Even the professors have different versions of their experiences with him and their stories are always subject to change.

The Dark Tower or What To Do After Harry Potter

Posted by Klaus


So, the final book of Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling has been released. Yes, I have it. No, I haven’t begun to read it yet but if it is as wonderful as the past 6 books, I know I won’t be disappointed.

There is another series circulating in town by a present day author that hasn’t made as much of a bang as the Potter series, yet it is equally as good, if not better. I’m talking about Stephen King’s Dark Tower series which, ironically, is also made up of seven volumes.

I’ve read quite a few of Stephen King’s books. I’ve read “The Stand”, “Jerusalem’s Lot”, “Hearts of Atlantis”, “The Regulators”, and some of the Bachman books, like “Thinner”, the latter of which were rejected by booksellers until they realized that Richard Bachman was Stephen King. Names sell books.

There is a book out now called “Crooked Little Vein” by Warren Ellis, who is well-known for his excellent graphic novels, published under the Harper-Collins imprint. I skimmed it, being an Ellis fan through his graphic novels, and the only disappointment I found was that my own novel Tales of the Troll: Junkies, Angels & Demons, hasn’t found a publisher yet and it is just as good as Ellis’s book. Of course, I’ve only sent it out to two places, which I won’t name, so maybe it is just sour grapes but people who have read it love it. Every chapter except for about five out of thirty-two chapters has been published somewhere and I’ve made a few chapbooks of it a number of times and sold out every time. Anyway, back to the main topic. Two of my favorite Stephen King novels were “The Stand”, and “Hearts of Atlantis”. I love the “low-men”. Sorry, you won’t find any spoilers here.

I blew off The Dark Tower series for a number of reasons. One being, Mr. King wrote the first four and then stopped working on the series, except for in his head. It was close to ten years before he decided to take book 5, The Wolves of the Calla, out of his head. Within the next three years he wrote book 6, The Song of Susannah, and completed the series with book 7, appropriately called The Dark Tower.

Then, in 2006, Marvel Comics started putting out a portion of The Dark Tower in comic book form. Besides reading regular literature, I also read comics. I read hungrily. I am a word junkie, which beats being a heroin junkie, which I was for over three decades. I never stopped reading or writing; I just lost everything I wrote, except for a book of poetry I wrote in prison called Poison Pen, which I released as a chapbook, made 500 copies and sold them all.

But before I picked up the opiates, my drug of choice was fantasy. I day-dreamed in school, in the playground and at home. I finished Moby Dick by the time I was 8 years old. Truth to tell, it took me close to four months to read, but hey, I was just a kid.

Some of my heroes growing up were Isaac Asimov, Harlan Ellison, and Philip K. Dick. There were plenty of others. On the darker side was Junkie by William Lee or, as we later found out, William S. Burroughs, who became infamous because of his book called The Naked Lunch. I think his best two books were “Junkie” and “Queer”. There are those who might disagree, but so what!

But, back to The Dark Tower by Marvel Comics. I read the first three installments; there were seven called The Gunslinger Born, and said to myself, “hmm, this is pretty good. I think I’ll give the books a chance. Peter David, who graphically wrote them — Thank you. And I started the first of the 7, called “The Gunslinger.”

Now, Stephen King, sometime during the period between books 4 and 5, like I said — about ten years — had a lot to think about. When he almost got killed by a Plymouth van in the late 90′s, his thinking changed. I know this for a fact because getting whacked by a pick-up truck, which I wrote about in a short story called “Getting Fixed In South Carolina”, in 1991, did the same for me. Yes, my story got published and a jazz group called The Jeff Robinson Trio made a Spoken Word cd about it that got written up by The Boston Globe. We only had the cash to make a few thousand, but, “Cry your pardon”, it did sell out and the story was published in a few places, just no place really big.

Bam, it changed my life. I stopped using heroin for the first time and went into recovery. But back to the main story, which is Stephen King and The Dark Tower.

Stephen King went back to The Dark Tower. He did some re-writing of the first four books and he worked diligently, totally inspired and gifted by the Muse like never before. You can tell whether you have the re-write of the first four because each of the new ones begin with a preface called “On Being Nineteen.” If you have one of the first four of The Dark Tower Series and it doesn’t have “On Being Nineteen” in the beginning “I cry your pardon”, you don’t have the finished product in your hands.

Now — I don’t know yet how “Harry Potter” will end up yet because I haven’t read the final book yet. I also don’t know how The Dark Tower series will finish because I’ve only read the first 5 books of the series of 7.
“The Dark Tower” series is good, really good. Did you ever read a book and hope it will never end because it was so good? If you have, then you know what I’m talking about. I don’t want “Harry Potter” to end, but, even more so, I don’t want “The Dark Tower” series to end.

“The Dark Tower” series is by far, in my not-always-so-humble-opinion, the best series of books that Stephen King has ever written. Jack Spicer, who is a great poet, once said that “Writers are the dictation machines of the Gods.”

Well the Gods were sitting on Stephen King’s shoulders, creeping in his ears, spinning around in his fantastical mind, which I wouldn’t want to get lost in, when he wrote “The Dark Tower” series. If you’ve read anything by Stephen King and liked it, if you blow off “The Dark Tower” series because it looks too long, you are doing yourself a major disservice.

The truth, and I “cry your pardon if you deny this and have forgotten the face of your fathers”, is that “The Dark Tower” series is too short. But so is life. Now if you’re just nineteen, then you have no idea how short life is, unless you are in Iraq, but, in the preface to “The Gunslinger”, which is the first of the 7, and in the next 3 books in “The Dark Tower” series, Stephen King, will tell you about “The Bad Patrol Boy” and how He’s gunning for you and you don’t even have a clue yet.

But that’s all I should say. Just walk into a book store; I like the Harvard Book Store on 1256 Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge, and look for a copy of “The Dark Tower” series, any-one of the first four, and read the preface. It’s called, and I know I’m repeating myself, “On Being Nineteen”, and then you might have some idea on how good “The Dark Tower” series is. Please, and “I cry your pardon”, begin with book one called “The Gunslinger.”

You’ll also want to look over your shoulder and have one hand on your gun. “He’s coming for you.” Whatever you do, read Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. Now that you’ve finished “Harry Potter”, you owe it to yourself to have another adventure, ya might say equally as good. Me, I think it is better. It’s the best writing Stephen King has ever done and it is probably the series which will follow him beyond the grave.
But what do I know? I’m just 61 years old and never thought I’d see that day.

One important fact. “The Dark Tower” series is not for children. It’s for people who were 8 year old when the first “Harry Potter” book came out. Do the math, then read this unbelievable series.

All props to you, Stephen King, and may you live long and well. I wonder if the guy on death row ever got to finish the series. Mr. King, you know what I’m talking about. And, The Old Woman, may the miracle take place for her.

And you — Read this, slow down and enjoy it. It goes faster than you think.