Life’s moments are worthy, just not worthy of an action movie
Filmmakers would have you believe every hour of every day is fraught with adventure.
The typical cinematic day begins with an illicit love affair followed by a mysterious telephone call, a car chase and a narrowly averted assassination attempt.
But life rarely imitates art.
This occurred to me recently as I was standing in an office supply store. The clerk had just told me IBM manufactures a ribbon cassette that is compatible with my Royal typewriter.
That made me happy – inordinately happy. And I didn’t know why.
After all, small success stores such as these are not the stuff of which entertainment is made. Had I not been taught by 25 years of watching television and movies that a person could not be truly happy unless he were realizing his most extravagant dreams?
It had been a good day, so far, and as I went over the events that had made it that kind of day, I began to remember something many of us often forget under the barrage of video and celluloid fantasies.
That morning, I finally discovered a place where our writers’ group could meet. I belong to the Redneck Riviera Writers Group. We get together twice a month and compare notes on the business of writing. We had been meeting at people’s homes, or local eateries, but it soon became obvious that if we were to expand beyond our current membership of five people, we would have to find a permanent meeting place.
After a fruitless search, we found a new home at the YMCA, courtesy of Joe Lukaszewski. That made me feel good.
Something else nice happened that morning. I found a book of Ramsey Campbell short stories I hadn’t known existed. I’m a student of the short story and Campbell is a bona fide master. The book should be fascinating.
I also picked up what I think will be the perfect gift for a friend. It, too, is a book of short stories, but these are special. I had never seen the book outside of the one copy I’d been hoarding for myself. Now she can enjoy it too.
Pop artist Andy Warhol died recently. In one of his obituaries I came across a reference to a movie of his titled “Sleep.” The movie depicted a person sleeping. That’s it. Two hours of a person sleeping. The entertainment virtues of the film are less than debatable, but I think I understand what Warhol might have been saying.
The small, mundane successes and failures – things that would end up on the cutting room floor – are the body and texture of life. They are what make life an endlessly fascinating experience. Spilling coffee on the living room carpet. Finding a letter from a friend in your mailbox. The thousand things that you forget a day after they’ve happened. They are what get us through accomplishments to crises.
So it was a pretty good day.
This column was previously published in the Playground Daily News in the 1980s and is reprinted here with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone's stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra's Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year's Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone's comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled "December" for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman's Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone's novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild's award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida's best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn't look a day over 94.
Filmmakers would have you believe every hour of every day is fraught with adventure. The typical cinematic day begins with an illicit love affair followed by a mysterious telephone call, a car chase and a narrowly averted assassination attempt. But… READ MORE
I’m sick, and I’m pretty sure they won’t be any coming back from this
As Rosanne Rosannadanna said many times, I thought I was gonna die.
The alarm clock ticked off the remaining moments of my peace and then it buzzed; my second thought – the first being that I had passed away in my sleep – was that I had awakened into some unhealthy person’s body.
I hurt everywhere. My back hurt. My throat, my ears, my chest – they all hurt. This wasn’t the body I had fallen asleep in. This was a boy on the verge of going belly up.
I had a cold.
A cold leaves me just sick enough to make life miserable, but no so sick that I feel I have to stay in bed. It seems a shame to lounge around in bed when I could be getting work done, but when I actually do those things I begin to wish I’d lounged around in bed.
I don’t know why I hadn’t foreseen this cold. Everybody in the office was sick, and relatives who were visiting were similarly smitten. When you are surrounded by people who are breeding germs faster than you can kill them, your chances of surviving unaffected are slim.
This cold was shaping up into a real barn-burner. My throat felt like Patton and his boys had chased Rommel through it. My head was stopped up and I could bells ringing – symptoms of a fever. And though the temperature outside was a balmy 73 degrees, I was freezing.
The thought of sweating it out at the office – and I use the term “sweating it out” purely in the abstract – was about as palatable as having a tooth pulled, so I phoned in sick. The building at work is usually 40 below zero, what with out overzealous air-conditioning system. I always go to work unless I’m not ambulatory, but since I felt SO bad, and since I’m OVER 30, I decided age has hits perks and this was one of them.
I lay in bed the entire day. The minutes were like hours. I would doze, look at my watch, doze a while longer, look at my watch, see that only 10 minutes had passed, doze again, knock off another five minutes. I did manage to stay awake long enough to watch “Jeopardy.”
The radio made no sense that day. I remember hearing an endless series of weather forecasts. You’d be amazed how many times radio stations give the weather forecast. I found myself comparing the weather forecast to my internal weather forecast: “Cloudy with a chance of showers today; severe thunderstorms tonight, with locally heavy rainfall possible.” Yep. That was about right.
Being sick all day means that you are awake all night and sicker still. I remember looking at the alarm clock and thinking it said 1 a.m. Then the living room clock began to toll and I counted 12 gongs.
As I write this, I am sick. I don’t feel like going back through and cleaning it up. It is freezing in here. I’m counting the minutes until 6 p.m. so I can get to the break room and eat one of those moon pie things and take more drugs.
I think I’m gonna die.
This column was originally published in the Playground Daily News in 1986 and is reprinted with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone's stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra's Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year's Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone's comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled "December" for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman's Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone's novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild's award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida's best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn't look a day over 94.
As Rosanne Rosannadanna said many times, I thought I was gonna die. The alarm clock ticked off the remaining moments of my peace and then it buzzed; my second thought – the first being that I had passed away in… READ MORE
What, me worry about a few dinosaurs, taco stands and incoming asteroids?
Guess what I read?
I read that someday in the future, an asteroid might hit Earth.
I was munching peanuts and swigging a glass of apple juice, and when my brain got hold of those words the peanuts and apple juice sort of mixed together the wrong way and clogged in my throat, and I thought the asteroid had landed on my head.
It’s true, folks. It has to be true because I read it in a national science magazine, although I can’t recall which one it was. An asteroid may pass very close to or strike Earth, and I am now looking into the possibility of buying waterfront property in Kansas.
If this sucker hits, it’s supposed to make Krakatoa look like a cap gun. Odds are it will impact in the water, which means a huge explosion, cubic miles of vaporized water, tidal waves, earthquakes, storms, floods – all those fun things we look forward to on weekends.
To give you a sense of perspective, some experts believe the Gulf of Mexico was formed by just such an asteroid strike.
Another theory currently in vogue is that an asteroid struck Earth long ago, and wiped out the dinosaurs. As everyone should know from watching “One Million Years B.C.,” dinosaurs are very tough characters. You can shoot them, spear them, drop rocks on them and shove them into volcanoes and they bounce back every time, annoyed and ready to eat Raquel Welch.
What’s even scarier is that the dinosaurs didn’t have a TV cable system that goes off the air when it rains, or cars that break down if you presume to drive them. An asteroid hits now and you can forget about “Miami Vice” … or even Miami.
OK. So it might hit. The question that first comes to my mind is: Why should I worry about it? In 150 years I will have been dead for 149 years, unless somebody figures out an easier way for me to work quadratic equations, which as I write this are driving me to the edge of insanity.
In 150 years my grandchildren will not be worrying about an asteroid striking Earth because I have no intention of having any grandchildren, since I wouldn’t want to bother them with the worry of buying waterfront property in Kansas.
A lot of things could change in 150 years. Look how far we’ve come since 150 years ago. Now we have purple hair, TV dinners, plastic vomit, farmers who are paid not to grow anything and tinfoil Christmas trees. Who knows what wondrous advancements will take place between now and then?
The people of the future probably will get their hands on this asteroid and turn it into a cheap tourist attraction. It’ll have its own McDonald’s, one of those miniature golf courses populated with cement dinosaurs who survived all previous asteroid strikes, a water slide, a few thousand T-shirt shops and a couple of greasy taco stands.
The prophet, Chicken “Nostradamus” Little, warned us about all this centuries ago, but we wouldn’t listen.
Now, all the choice waterfront property in Kansas is bought up.
But it’s still not too late for a greasy taco stand.
This column was originally published in the Playground Daily News in 1985 and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone's stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra's Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year's Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone's comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled "December" for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman's Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone's novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild's award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida's best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn't look a day over 94.
Guess what I read? I read that someday in the future, an asteroid might hit Earth. I was munching peanuts and swigging a glass of apple juice, and when my brain got hold of those words the peanuts and apple… READ MORE
Del reviews ‘House by the Cemetery’
Image courtesy of De Paolis In.Co.R. Studio.
“The House by the Cemetery” Starring Catriona MacColl, Paola Malco and Ania Pieroni. Directed by Lucio Fulci. 86 minutes. Not rated. Del’s take “The House by the Cemetery” is a film only a horror purist could love, and love it… READ MORE
Watching Mom iron my pants is like watching an artist at work
Image courtesy of Karolina Grabowska of Pexels by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.pexels.com/@karolina-grabowska/
To watch Mom iron is to watch a carpenter join pieces of wood into something that ill be handed down, parent to child, for generations. It is watching an artist imbue blank canvas with timelessness. It is watching a craftsman… READ MORE
When they describe cockroaches as ‘three-inch monsters’ it’s time to leave the state
Image by Flickr user Greg Virtucio by way of a Creative Commons license. https://www.flickr.com/photos/gregvirtucio/
I opened into my personal computer file the other day and there, at the top of the list, was a short story with a message especially for me written above it. The message read: “Good news, Del.” A little farther… READ MORE
A new Asian import has show up in America. It has six legs … and WINGS!
CC license.
We will warn you for the 3,418th time this year that the dreaded Asian cockroach is raping and pillaging its way up the Florida peninsula and will arrive in YOUR home precisely three minutes after you read this, because that… READ MORE
Elect me and I’ll be concerned about our embassy to the USSR being bugged
Several important elected officials who are taking a break from investigating golf courses that someday might require federal assistance, have expressed shock that the U.S. embassy in Moscow has been compromised by KGB bugs.
(IMPORTANT NOTE: These bugs, of course, are not insects. Otherwise, nearly every American restaurant and breakfast cereal manufacturing plant would have throngs of important elected officials swarming over them, making important puffing gestures of concern, forming committees and generally scaring away the bugs, whose only earthly pleasure is to lay thousands of eggs in unguarded jelly sandwiches.)
These same important elected officials have learned that certain U.S. Marines guarding the embassy exchanged important government secrets to perform the sex act or purchase the latest in burlap fashions for slinky Russian temptresses.
The loss of these secrets (such as the real reason a researcher at the Gentle Ben College of Divinity received a federal grant to study the nostril hairs of the slobber-master walrus) represents an intelligence disaster for the United States and will give the Soviets an unfair advantage in the awarding of grants for studies of the animal kingdom’s private parts and other important subjects.
These important elected officials, whose knowledge of the Soviet Union consists of watching videotapes of “Dr. Zhivago,” have expressed shock that the Russians would plant listening devices in OUR embassy and seduce secrets from OUR boys, although nobody said a word when a crack team of KGB construction workers toiled since before the Bolshevik revolution to build the embassy, or Marine guards returned to their posts with cabbage on their breath.
(IMPORTANT NOTE: These important elected officials are NOT shocked to discover the Soviets have bugged our embassy. What they’re really saying is: “I am shocked to discover the Soviets have bugged our embassy, and I expected concerned voters to return me to office so that I may continue to be shocked and make important puffing gestures and form committees which will spend millions of dollars to produce reports the size of the Chinese telephone directory, which will then be used as doorsteps at U.S. embassies.”)
It is not as if these important elected officials weren’t warned. For instance, Buford “Hawg Lips” Stumpknocker, who worked at the Sunoco station just outside Scumbag, Miss., (the Snapping Turtle Capital of the Western Hemisphere) warned customers for years that “you can’t trust them egg-sucking, vodka-swilling Godless heathen red-dog commie shylocks.”
Sadly, nobody listened to Hawg Lips until he got himself elected and appointed to an important committee. Now, as all politicians, he is SHAWCKED that such a dastardly thing could be allowed to happen.
This column was previously published in the Playground Daily News in the 1980s and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone's stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra's Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year's Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone's comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled "December" for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman's Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone's novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild's award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida's best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn't look a day over 94.
Several important elected officials who are taking a break from investigating golf courses that someday might require federal assistance, have expressed shock that the U.S. embassy in Moscow has been compromised by KGB bugs. (IMPORTANT NOTE: These bugs, of course,… READ MORE
Mladen and Del review ‘Phase IV’
Image courtesy of Paramount Pictures.
“Phase IV” Starring Nigel Davenport, Michael Murphy, Lynne Frederick, Lots of Ants and others. Directed by Saul Bass. 84 minutes. Rated PG. Hulu, Prime. Mladen’s take “Phase IV,” lovingly built in 1974 with an admirable effort at incorporating animated and… READ MORE
Tornado!
This photo, taken Dec. 10, 1967, shows the path of a tornado through the Belaire Subdivision of Fort Walton Beach. Our house is at the bottom, slightly left of center.
I wrote this essay on March 25, 1972, which would have made me 16 years old at the time. TORNADO! We, being myself, my parents, my younger sister and at the time, my older sister, live in the town of… READ MORE
