Saturday, February 6, 2016

Part Two - Writers Group At B's Condo - my short story The Man Who Disappeared

What a treat to see Fran Bareikis Pulli!  And of course it's always great to see Marf.

Fran read a wonderful poem about her parents' bar called "17th and North Broad, - hope I got that right -  the address of her dad's tap room called "Adolph," short for Adolphus.

Notable lines include "each floor a cosmos to itself" - "I became a dreamer of love stories" - "A cloud of intoxicating smoke" -

The bar was on the ground floor. On successive floors lived members of the family. Fran "adored" her older married sister.

The bar was not co-ed. A separate entrance was for women. "No topknots or tiaras here."

Sometimes "negatives" like the above are very effective visually. Everyone remarked how visual the poem was. At her sisters' she learned to play checkers and cards and even beat her teachers. She also learned to crochet.

Allan Heller suggested she submit her poem to The Sun Magazine. 

You should see the blankets Beatriz made. She has a whole pile of em.

Marf was chilly so put one around her shoulders. Mon dieu, how does one make such a blanket like this?

Fran's poem continued that she fell asleep "when the music stopped" - the jukebox. "A small part of me still lives there."

What's happened to Adolph's tap room?

Image result for condos philly

Martha Hunter's "Jazmine and the Bull Rider" featured the prologue and first couple of chapters of her already written novel of 35 chapters. It's good enough to be a Harlequin Romance Novel. Sure hope she'll submit it.

Very descriptive, lively, humorous and compelling enough to wanna read more!!!

The fellow in the Philly's cap introduced himself as Rem, short for rapid eye movement. He made me copies of the newly deceased Paul Kantner singing in the Jefferson Airplane and in another group.

Most of these artists who used drugs died early deaths.

Murph read a couple of chapters of his novel, based on fake dream sequences, which flowed effortlessly from his pen. He talked about radio stations he would listen to all across the world, including Radio Ankara and Radio Moscow. He listened to the voice of Arabs in Cairo, "on the hour you would hear the chimes of the bell tower of the University of Cairo, which sounded like the BBC's Big Ben."

Had Rem gone overseas for his research? Had he taken time off from the Roslyn post office to fly across the Atlantic ocean to research his novel?

You've got a brain. Figure it out!

His own father had a Grundig radio, while Judy's dad had a Blaupunkt.

Image result for grundig radios   They still make the Grundig.

Image result for blaupunkt radio     Blaupunkt is still made in Germany. Judy's beloved father who died when she was - what? 18 - listened to this. He played with the Philadelphia Orchestra, both violin and viola. I told her I composed a story loosely based on her parents called The House on Lincoln Avenue which will be published in a year or so. Hopefully we'll still be alive, I said, remembering what happened to the main character in Summer Vacation.

One of my fave lines from Rem's story was "Get a life," a friend once told him. "You truly are the king of useless information."

Image result for ramsey lewis   Holy cow! Ramsey Lewis is coming to the Kimmel Center. He's 80 years old.

If I wasn't such a chicken, I'd go see the show. Jimmy Sutcliffe could get me comp tickets.

Hey Jimbo!!!

When I went to bed last night I was exhausted from working on the News Roundup for the Compass. Really interesting stories, all condensed by my colleague Ada.

Wanted to write a new short story for our group today. Had absy no idea what to write about.

While making my breakfast today, I listened to the audio book The Rest is Noise, by Alex Ross. Wonderful true stories about composers.

Image result for alex ross the rest is noise   Jean Sibelius, who put Finland on the map for classical music, went to pieces later in life. The pressure of being 'the best' in Finland and living up to his reputation in general turned him to alcohol for solace. He couldn't stop drinking and he claimed to be working on his next symphony but he contracted composer's block. He disappeared for a while.

That got me thinking and I came up with my story idea.

Entitled The Man Who Disappeared I worked on it after taking a nap in Scott's bed. I was just exhausted.

The group liked it and I'll take a look at their comments now.

Hope I correctly covered the Waterfront, Elia.

PS - Just got an email that The Poets Haven will publish my poem Tyvek House. It's about a nearby house on Terwood Road. I AM ECSTATIC!!!! You have no idea how many times it's been rejected.

No comments:

Post a Comment