Pause for a Moment

I will be a quarter of a century in the spring and that realization scares me. I don't know if it's that I've had kids and been married for almost five years, but I am starting to feel old. And not in an aging like fine wine way. More of an Oh-my-god-have-I-done-enough-so-far-like-climb- a-pyramid-spelunk-or-visit-Ghana-way. What the hell have I learned from this whirlwind of life? Recently, there have been three tidbits that have surmounted my thick skull through my mixed bag of good days, bad days, and days that made me cringe and climb back under the covers.

Here's what I've got so far.

Good day: Making a green light is more satisfying than sex. Well, not really, but it sure feels good to arrive at a destination 30 seconds sooner than you would have if hadn't floored it through the intersection.

Bad day: Credit cards are evil. A $1000 limit doesn't mean you have that money to spend. Charging an 80 zillion inch flat screen tv and hoping you can pay for it later at a 30% percent interest rate is not a good idea. Really.

Cringing right now: Make a budget. Keeping close track of your money is not just a pesky piece of information constantly bombarded to you in financial links by yahoo and msn. I learned recently when I received notice that I owed my lovely bank $240 in overdraft fees. For eight purchases under ten dollars. I kid you not.

I'm sure there is more to impart but I've got to go drive through at least 10 intersections to make myself feel better after that last tidbit.

The Men Who Stare At Goats Film Review

The Men Who Stare at Goats, by fledgling director Grant Heslov, is one of the most funny and outrageous films to come out since 2008's Burn After Reading. It is an avant- garde and sometimes silly tale of a news reporter on a mission.

The story begins with a discontent and boring guy, aptly named Bob (Ewan McGregor) who travels to the Middle East after his wife leaves him for a one armed man. He finds more than he bargained for in the eccentric, psychic power wielding Lyn (George Clooney). Bob is immediately swept up in Lyn's lunacy and they embark on various adventures where they are kidnapped by Al-Qaeda, drive into a rock (Iraq) and dissipate clouds with their minds to name a few.

The story is told in part by flashbacks to the founding of a special division in the US Army called the Jedi, headed up by scene stealing Bill Django (Jeff Bridges). The casting is excellent with supporting roles going to veteran actors Kevin Spacey and Stephen Lang. Also, the irony that McGregor starred in the billion dollar Star Wars franchise was not lost on the casting director and does much to humor the audience.

One of the strengths of the film is its searing wit and fast paced story line. For what seems like an aimless adventure, the plot unfolds carefully and comes full circle. Many elements of the story are centered around Vietnam and the war in Iraq which can become touchy subjects. Here, the director is careful not to get heavy handed with his message, but deftly incorporates political themes into the film as well. Indeed, from beginning to end, The Men Who Stare at Goats is a silly and satisfying romp into the world of war and psychic powers.

Showings are being held at Red Rivers Theatres in Concord. Visit their site here and join in on the fun.

Stephen King: Writing Guru Extraordinare

Reading King's book "On Writing" has been a mesmerizing adventure for me. Reading and writing have been two areas of my life that have fallen away amidst text books and diapers while in college with two rambunctious babies. King's obvious passion blazes furiously from the pages. So strongly and excitingly that it has reinvigorated my own love for writing. I actually took notes on what I need to do on a daily basis to start a fire from my recently warmed embers.

1. Read more 2. Write more 3. Turn the damn TV off 4. Repeat.

I feel positively giddy reading his words and personal anecdotes. I especially loved how the "fossil" for Misery came to him in his sleep on a plane ride to London. I've often had dreams that were so crazy and unique that I thought they would make a great short story. Maybe next time I'll write them down on a cocktail napkin or two.

The Man in Greensleeves

"Greensleeves" by Artist Lisa Rae Winant

Image used by permission of the Artist
12 x 12 / oil on panel

He heaved a sigh of relief as the man in the grey suit silently shut the door of the bedroom and his steps creaked away. He was safe. For now.

They had come for him in the dead of the winter night. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the company would find the open safe and its contents missing. He fastened the top button instinctively of the green jacket. But not just any green jacket.

He waited a minute then opened the door of the closet he had been hiding in and cautiously went to the window. He lived in a first floor flat near Madam Tassaud’s in London. It was a nice enough neighborhood but certainly not where he saw himself living for the rest of his life. Not anymore. Right now only a few cabbies haunted the narrow street he lived on and a few ladies of the night at the corner teetered back and forth.

He slid the window open and crept out. His black loafers crunched the snow below. He raised his arm and a cab promptly scooped him up.

“Collier’s Row, Romford, Essex.”

The roads were slick but they arrived at the corner of Fuller’s Close and Erith Crescent in about an hour. The cabbie sped off and the man walked, eyes shifting up and down the street, as he approached a brown building.

He tapped twice, paused, and then tapped again.

A nondescript, brunette woman answered the door. She gasped at first, eyes widening as she saw the green jacket, and then grabbed the man’s arm to pull him in.

She composed herself quickly and drew herself up to her full height. She was tall, taller than she usually held herself. And quite beautiful. But one wouldn’t know by her disguise.

The fireplace flickered and hissed casting shadows around the small sitting room. The man crossed the room and sat heavily on the faded armchair.

“Everything went according to plan,” he smiled, but it appeared almost as a grimace.

She nodded. “So now it is time to run?”

“Yes. Moray is waiting.” The man stood wearily for a moment and motioned for her to grab the bags that were waiting by the door. “Time to go.”

They returned to London almost by dawn. Not ideal, the man thought to himself, as the company had men prowling every street looking for him, but necessary. Only Moray knew what the properties of the green jacket were. He was the inside man. He and Lily were only pieces of the puzzle.

James Moray answered the door. He was old and pale, dressed neatly, and had a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“Marcus. Lily.” Moray greeted them quietly and proceeded to usher them to the cellar and seated them around a large table.

“Now that we have the jacket, we can proceed.” Moray began. Marcus and Lily looked at him questioningly. “My friends,” he continued, “it is time for us to save the world…”

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