Thanks Blogger

A quick note to say that, while blogger has done a lot for me, it has not done enough.  Therefore I am leaving this platform for the more versatile WordPress form.

You can now visit at NickSeagers.com directly.

5 Great Pieces of Advice from James Brown

1) Ha!

2) Huh!

3) Good God, ya'll!

4) Hit it!

5) Ain't that a groove?

Support My Upper Lip...Errr...Literacy

The time has finally come, and now you can finally donate to my upper lip.  Clean shaven on February 15th, and furry through March.  Please show your support by clicking the image below.

On Mustaches

I have recently signed up for the 826 Boston Moustache-a-thon.  This is a six-week challenge to grow a mustache, with weekly weigh-ins all for charity.

There are, of course, two acceptable spellings for this lip hair: moustache, and mustache (though not according to my spell check).  I will be using both in this post.  Those who are looking for a little consistency in the spelling can suck it.

Starting next week I will be posting the link where I can be sponsored for this glorious attempt.  I got the official blessing of the wife, and registered my upper lip before she could change her mind about it.

I found (stole) the following chart online to assist me in selecting the exact style to go with.  Please let me know if you have a favorite.

Since pledging to do this, I have come across a multitude of mustache-related wonderment that I now need to share.

• The America Mustache Institute - Protecting the right of, and fighting discrimination against mustached Americans...
• Wikipedia link to Moustache - (yes, American's bastardized the spelling and took the 'o' out)
• Women With Mustaches
• Recent NYTimes article on the comeback of the mustache
• A list of top 10 mustaches
• Mustaches -vs- Cancer
• Fake Mustaches
• Wedding Mustaches

 I urge you to donate to 826 Boston, if not through my stellar lip hair, then directly through their site.

As the weeks go by, expect regular updates, including pictures.  Below is an example of the last time I grew a mustache.  It's creepy, I know.  I call this Midnight Produce Manager.  Enjoy.

South Boston Hunting Season

Each winter when the snow flies, residents of South Boston must move their cars to make way for the tradition of the parking space hunt and faking out passerby cars, all of them eagerly searching for parking within a one mile radius of home.  Thus begins the most hated of seasons - South Boston Hunting Season.

For those residents of South Boston not blessed with a parking spot of their very own, snow storms can be a time when hibernation is contemplated merely so the car does not have to be moved.  Picture folks roaming the shopping aisles with carts of pizza rolls and toilet paper, dragging their bags back home on sleds to avoid parking.

This past weekend as we rang in the new year, a storm came through, slow and steady, and dropped a moderate amount of snow on the city.  As a general rule, the City of Boston (headed by 5th-term Mumbles) allows space 'saving' for up to 48 hours after a storm.  I was unable to locate a more thorough explanation on CityofBoston.gov, but trust me - if you live in a neighborhood that utilizes this system, you will know.  There are always stories told about Person A taking Person B's 'saved' parking spot and having their tires slashed.  The truth, it turns out, can be much more fun.

So as you travel around in endless circles, wearing your tires bald around the block in hopes of finding that elusive legal parking spot, remember that you are a hunter.  As a hunter, you need to know your prey.  Though it may seem tempting, it is a waste of valuable energy to swear repeatedly at fire hydrants, crosswalks and driveways.  They are just decoys, meant to draw you in and keep you on the move.  They were there before the snow came and they will be there after it is all gone.

There are several classifications of parking spot camouflage.  Below are just a few in a list of endless examples.

Trash Can Camo

A normal parking spot can be quickly transformed with the central placement of a trashcan, either opening up or down.

Advantage:  City sanitation won't throw out an actual trash can.

Disadvantage:  Passerby just found a place for that bag of dog shit they're been carrying for two blocks.

Kitchen Camo

With the simple addition of a wooden chair, this parking spot is disguised as a kitchen.  A very, very, sad kitchen.

Advantage: Can also be used as a stool.

Disadvantage: Possibility of random hobos sitting in your space.

Storage Camo

Gives the immediate impression of actually being a tiny wheel-less car, then makes someone wonder if the car that goes into that spot may actually fit into the container.

Advantage: Functional and reusable.

Disadvantage: May also be filled with poop.

Patio Camo

This relaxing chair can be accompanied by several other chairs and a table to provide that card-game feel while still being functional in its space-saving ability.

Advantage: Lightweight and portable.

Disadvantage: Damn hobos.

Some old favorites:

The Beach: beach chair and cooler

Christmas Morning: full size tree, in stand (sans decorations)

The Remodel: two sawhorses with plywood/sheetrock covering the space

The Summer Vacation: tri-fold lawn chair and a full coil of hose on top

And the best of the year thus far: The King

Happy New Year

I'm not big on New Years resolutions normally.  I tend to keep them to myself, in case I don't keep them, which I rarely do.

I've been brainstorming some band names recently.  I do not have any musical experience and to be honest, no one wants to hear me sing or play an instrument.  Ever.  But what I can do is come up with a handful of good names that could soon be topping the charts.

Pink Raisin

Bacon Pudding

Blithering Geniuses

Big Pig Baby

Corsage Laser

PopSecret Agent

Lotion in the Well

Hotel Room Watercolors

The Blanket Humpers

Coppa

After months of waiting, Coppa has finally opened its doors.  I was lucky enough to find myself there just a few hours after they had announced they would be opening one day early, on Tuesday.

An unassuming little place in the South End, as I was begin seated, Chef/Partner Jamie Bissonnette throws me the sign of the horns while his wife Courtney, the General Manager, slings drinks from behind the bar while directing traffic and chatting up the bar customers.

I've been waiting for this for a bit.  Ken Oringer, Jamie and Courtney made Toro the best place in town for tapas, and I couldn't wait to see what they did with Italian.  I was especially excited about a rumor I'd heard that they were doing a bone marrow and oxtail pizza.  And, holy shit, The Blue Ribbon nearly slayed me. Braised oxtail, mozzarella, tomato, bone marrow, and horseradish tried to take me down in fatty, rich texture and flavor.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  We started off with the Buratta and bresoala, which were fresh and perfectly seasoned with sea salt.  Having sampled the cured meats Jamie was working on at Toro, I jumped right on the salumi section of the menu with the duck pastrami.  Smooth, smoky and perfectly sliced on the antique hand slicer behind the bar, this was the shit.

And the pizza.  Fucking hell.  Enough said.

The wine list is filled with some awesome italian stuff, but my favorite part of the drink list was the Pony Farm (5 Miller High Life 7oz bottles) and, of course, Schaefer in a can.

Good people, good eats, good atmosphere, good times.

If you've got an hour to kill and $20 in your pocket and don't want to have to shell out big bucks (which you won't anyway) to taste what Coppa has to offer, get a drink and a stuzi at the bar and call it good.

I can't wait to sample the rest of the menu and knock into the cocktail menu.  To give you a quick idea, the restaurant kicks as much ass as the website - Coppa.

Go.

Eat.

Enjoy.

Survival of NaNoWriMo

I did it.  I won.  I am officially a winner.  To date over 10,000 are 2009 NaNoWriMo winners.  For those who don't know - if you finish the contest and write 50,000+ words in one month and call it a novel, you win.

My grand total word count was 50,198.  Every sentence seems to me to be worse than the last.  I never fully fleshed out the lead character or gave him a solid and convincing back story.  My plot was all over the place and from time to time my 'prose' turned into what could be called 'babble'.  But the best part is - I don't care.

I really don't.  As much as I would like to have come out of November with a stunning and polish work of art, I don't care.  I wrote it.  Hell, I finished 18,000 over the past three days and didn't go blind in the process.

This past weekend, I ate a lot of turkey, passed a lot of gas, and wrote a lot.  Oh, and I slept.  I made sure to get lots of naps in.  In fact, one of the first things I did upon finishing my NaNoWriMo project was take a nap.

And it felt good.  Really, really good.

Next year, I will do some fleshing out and outlining prior to sitting down and vomiting up words.  I will try to stay ahead of the game the entire time instead of just the first two day.  I'm sure I will attempt to do quite a lot of things, and one of two of them may actually be completed.

To all other NaNoWriMo 2009 winners - congrats.

NaNoWriMo - Week One

Today is the seventh day of NaNoWriMo 2009 and there have been some hits and misses thus far.  I've just his 10,000 word (1/5 way there) and have finally fleshed out my main character enough to know how he reacts to being abducted and kicked in the ribs.

So I've go that going for me.

In the meantime I'm occasionally keeping track of what's going on in #NaNoWriMo land on twitter.  A small selection of my favorite posts so far:

I think my MC might just have decided he's got a tattoo I didn't know of. #nanowrimo
@lyonza

#nanowrimo excuse no.84: My characters have taken out a restraining order against me.
@namott

I just figured out how to NOT write a sex scene XD #nanowrimo
@darknessdescend

I kind of hate all my characters... #NaNoWriMo
@yabtest

heh. Trying to write while feeling sick leads to some rather, um It-made-sense-at-the-time ideas.
@snazel

1K op een uurtje, ik ben tevreden. Straks verder schrijven #nanowrimo nu "even" eten maken, spaghettisaus voor drie dagen - @lilkim8

Now? I have the ghost of a dead headmistress haunting my MC because they doodled a phallus on her portrait in school #nanowrimo #nanolondon - @jayintheclouds

Back to the grind.  For all you out there looking to hit 15,000 words by Monday - good luck.

Review: Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson

I listen to audiobooks as well as reading the physical pages.  I have not gotten much into ebooks, but that's probably because I don't own a Kindle, don't plan on owning a kindle, and I'm not sure I would like to use it at all.  I prefer to do my reading on something that won't short circuit if I fall asleep and drool all over it.

So back to the audiobooks.  I have gone through countless through the year thus far, from Dan Brown's Digital Fortress (I would only recommend this to the 17 hardcore Dan Brown fans out there.  The man can imagine a compelling plot, but the writing itself is shit for the most part and does not give the reader any credit) to John Grisham novels - I think I've completed nearly everything that hasn't been turned into a movie.

Recently I picked up Tree of Smoke from the BPL, having attempted to read this book in hardcover about a year or two ago when it first came out.  It was a tough one to get into at the time for me and I dropped it.  The audiobook, read by Will Patton (Armageddon, Gone in 60 Seconds) was much, much better.  I've always liked the way Johnson does everything.  His writing is superb, from Jesus' Son to Fiskadoro to a few short plays I've seen in McSweeney's.  And to be accompanied by Patton's performance really made this audiobook work.

The book itself, is set in Vietnam.   Being much too young to have experienced the war the way so many others had, I've studied the war.  I've read everything Tim O'Brian has written about Vietnam since I was first made to read The Things They Carried and carried my way forward through all of the post-war novels which I felt were equally as good.  I've watched Apolcalypse Now far too many times and still occasionally run quotes from it in my head at random.

But Tree of Smoke is not about that Vietnam.  There is no constant firefight keeping the troops on their toes.  For the most part, there are no troops.  The lead character is Skip Sands, a CIA operative who is tasked with intelligence sorting and gathering, though the tasks he is.  Skip's uncle, known as The Colonel, is described as Coppolla's Kilgore about another decade down the line and with vast amounts of knowledge from Langley.

The story is one of the human condition in an environment as throuroughly fucked up as Vietnam was.  Johnson writes truthfully from every angle.  From the locals, to babyfaced troops fresh from training, to VC double agents, to CIA assholes running what amounts to a version of Internal Affairs, to the women who were left at home in the square states while their sons went to fight, Johnson tells the version of the truth he sees and leaves room for what he didn't want to write about.  He doesn't lead you into a determination of a character through dialogue and action - he allows the characters dialogue and action to flow in a way that forces to you to try and work out the motivations and end goals. 

There is no spoon-feeding here, you've got to want to figure these characters out.  And in the end, I'm not sure I was able to.  The story ends in a far more realistic way than anything about Vietnam that's ever been in a movie - where these characters end up, how thier lives are ended or allowed to continue.

I'm already ready to read Johnson's newest book Nobody Move.

Oh yeah - for those of you who aren't familiar with Denis Johnson's work (and seriously - why not?  Pick up Jesus' Son and read it cover to cover tomorrow.  Shouldn't take you more than an hour or two) and are more concerned about what Oprah or Good Morning America are suggesting you read - Tree of Smoke did win a National Book Award.  So it's got that going for it, which is nice.

National Novel Writing Month - Closer Than You Think

Once again I have commited myself to National Novel Writing Month.  Just as it sounds, it is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel from November 1st to November 30th.

As a note of disclosure I failed last year.  Miserably.  Really, it was quite a poor attempt and I'm a bit embarassed to only have reached 15,000 words.

This year I'm taking a different approach.  I'm telling everyone.  Lots and lots of people will know what I'm doing for the month of November, will hopefully ask how it's going and will make fun of me and poke me with sharp sticks should I fall short again.

You can learn more about NaNoWriMo or check out my progress here. (it's going to be at 0 words until November, so back off until then!)

"Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts" now available on Amazon

Although I am a huge supporter of IndieBound and all things independent, the decision has been made to put the book on the evil Amazon. I made this decisions simply by stating the obvious - I'm an independent author who needs max exposure for his product.

The price on Amazon is the same you will find on my site, the only difference being that I have not signed all of the Amazon copies and if you order from them you don't have the opportunity to get potentially strange items included in your package.

Now that the book is in distribution I am working on getting it into all New England independent booksellers and eventually it should end up on IndieBound, where I will promote the hell out of it much more furiously than telling people to go to Amazon because "Rubes" qualifies for FREE Super Saver Shipping. Which it does.

In the meantime - buy my book on Amazon, because it's the right thing to do.

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Side note (or more accurately, bottom note - but that sounds dumb): If you have a book review blog, or happen to be a reviewer for the New York Times, please contact me with your info for a free copy. If you pretend to be a book reviewer and just want a free book, I will take your information and sign you up for several things barnyard related you may not wish to have delivered to your house.

Hit & Miss in the World of Self Publishing

My first attempt at self-publishing came during an alcohol and type-writer fueled haze. I was working a second shift job, getting home around midnight and having several hours in my tiny studio apartment alone.

That is to say, my first attempt at self-publishing had nothing to do with self-publishing. Once my novel of sorts, Making News, was complete (in my mind, at the time) I proceeded to receive rejection letters from nearly every major and minor publishing house in the US. And a few in Canada. And maybe one in the UK.

Then I learned about self-publishing. I was living in Monument Square in Portland, Maine at the time, and directly across the square was Longfellow Books, a kickass little store if there ever was one. I spend a lot of time flipping through the books, trying to figure out what made a book a book, how authors were able to hook into the publishing world.

I found a lot of shitty looking books by local authors (self-published books of poetry and woe-is-me fiction) and I thought to myself, "Self - you can do that. At least you can't be any worse than these folks."

And I wasn't. I wasn't any better - but I certainly wasn't any worse.

In retrospect, the book wasn't ready and I didn't care enough to promote it because I knew it wasn't ready, I just wanted to have something I could put on a book shelf and say, "I did that."

I have since learned quite a bit more about all sorts of publishing - online, magazine, on-demand, mini-press.

I see a lot of potential in this thing called self-publishing. With tools like Twitter, Facebook - fuck - the entire fucking Internet, there isn't a place an author can't get to. Working into the Book Expo or a large city book festival may take a little work, but the book wasn't written without any sweat, and it sure as hell isn't going to sell without any.

I'm waiting for IndieBound to create a self-published author section (the indie of the indie) but all in good time, I guess.

My most recent book project, Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts started out as some pictures I was going to hang on the wall. It became it's own beast, morphing into some humor and typography-driven thing. While I was writing it and putting it together, I kept a list of all the ways I would market the book.

That's how this was different - I didn't think of a publishing house touching this one. Besides the fact that it's too difficult to categorize, review, or get into a bookseller, I just wanted to do it myself.

I designed the whole things, scrapped half of it and redesigned it again. And I loved every minute of it. I used some crowd-sourcing for cover ideas and content.

The future of self-publishing is not the authors with a desire to do it themselves, the future is having the full plan before word one is written. Writing is such a solitary venture by necessity, but by getting the word out that you're working on something, people want to know more about it. Let them interact. Let them engage you while you're engaged in your writing.

What do you think about self publishing? Let Backward Books know here.

My Day in Jury Duty

5:30
Alarm. Snooze.

5:35
Alarm. Snooze.

5:40
Alarm. Awake. Make coffee. Shower. Dress. Eat a nice big ham egg and cheese sandwich.

6:50
Leave house early to ensure I'm not late. Don't want to be held in contempt.

6:52
Caught Red Line right off the bat.

7:03
Caught Green Line. Station smells like bleach and puke - both fresh. I hate the Green Line.

7:06
Emerge at Government Center a full 54 minutes early. Super.

7:25
After circling the Superior Court buildings and attempting to get in through the wrong entrance, I am on the second floor sitting on a bench staring at the Jury Pool room (218) that isn't open for another 5 minutes.

7:31
Entered room. Think airport seating without being able to watch planes take off.

7:33
Fully processed as a white male. Why do they have a second question asking if you are Hispanic? Wasn't that covered on the first round?

7:40
Mousy little book woman seems to be approaching everyone, hoping for eye contact. I think she needs a friend. I do not wish to be her friend.

7:42
Woman in tiny fedora checks in. I want to say she is an organ grinder, but I have no proof.

7:43
I think the court officers are sexting each other.

7:50
First pair of skinny jeans arrives. This girl needs to eat about 17 cheeseburgers.

7:55
Just realized that besides arriving with a piece of paper with my name on it, I have not been asked for any form of identification.

8:01
A nun has arrived. Sally Field/Flying Nun type of nun. What the hell is going on here? Am I on TV?

8:17
Wondering why, when your choice is six empty seats, you would choose the seat directly next to me.

8:31
It's instructional video time! Video has a lisping judge and the rest of the cast reminds me more of Night Court than Law & Order. Wondering what John Larroquette is doing these days.

9:05
Judge comes down to address the room of approximately 200 people. She says 'duty' a lot and somehow compares jury duty to 9/11 heroes and soldiers in Iraq. I see where she's going, but there's not enough glue in the building to make this one stick.

9:25
We get a break! I've been sitting here for two hours, so I could probably use one. Supposed to be back by 9:55 for first call to court.

9:28
Enter 'break room' to enjoy a taste of water and look around. Three tables facing the walls with a handful of broken chairs. Lovely.

9:29
Leave 'break room' and take my seat.

9:55
Court officer no where to be seen.

10:05
I may have passed out for a minute. My head did the neck-snap thing. No announcement.

10:30
Announcement made! Apparently, nothing is happening. Officially, the first party and the second party in the first case on the thirteenth floor have reached an agreement and....there will be no need for any of us.

10:37
Guy next to me starts mumbling to himself. Words I can make out, "...bullshit...waste of time...clairvoyant...jelly bean...spectroscopic...work...fuck..."

10:44
Guy next to me asks if it's okay to drink coffee in the room. I tell him to ask the folks with the pretty badges. He does not seem to like my answer.

10:46
Bathroom break.

10:48
Walking around the banks off elevators I notice that the man in the skull and crossbones sweatshirt has a haircut not unlike Warchild's haircut from Point Break. He is wearing one red shoe and one black shoe. We do not speak.

11:11
Someone farted. It wasn't me.

11:30
Second break! Since I'm still wandering in front of the elevators, I take my break sitting down.

11:35
Man four rows back snores himself awake.

11:59
Announcement made that there is a case.

12:02
My number is called (93).

12:05
Enter the tallest elevator I've ever seen. At least 20ft high. Should have gone for width, since there are twenty people crammed in here.

12:07
Sshhh...court is very quiet.

12:09
Another round of jurors come in. I count 75 of us total. This bench hurts my butt. At least 15 people have to stand.

12:11
Judge comes in, does her deal.

12:12
Selection, or 'panelization' begins. My seat is still uncomfortable.

12:34
The ceiling looks shitty. Could use another coat of paint. The walls are nice.

1:10
Final juror accepted. We all shuffle out.

1:16
Informed by the court officer that I am free to go.

1:19
The lobby smells like more farts.

Happy Friday

It is that day at the end of the week that causes much fantastic frolicking across this great land of ours, and I have a sneaking suspicion I should have a post here consisting of various whatnot I like.

Maybe you'll like it too.


Acme Cocktail Company

My friend Marty is back from his summer hiatus and the Acme Cocktail Company is now in full swing. Check back often to see what he's got to say on everything from health care reform to mint juleps.

Still wondering what he thinks of who Legal Seafoods hired to shake out drinks at the Harborside location that may be built by 2020. Marty?


Island Creek Oysterfest

I will be attending this event tomorrow afternoon and will update you on the food and fun.


Taxidermy

Because sometimes a stuffed squirrel says it all.


Drunk Man Throws Jellyfish at Teenagers

Without a doubt the best news story I have found. You have no idea how pissed I am I didn't think this one up.


Boston Book Festival

It's the first. Hopefully the first annual. John Hodgman and Tom Perrotta are MCing this shindig. I'm glad I have a month and a half to figure out my guerrilla marketing tactics for Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts. There is a possibility that it will have a juggling monkey, so be sure not to miss it.

If you are interested and will be in Boston on October 24th, the event is free, so contact me and we can storm the gates in proper fashion.


Writing

You know - that thing I should do more of. Well...looks like I have no immediate plans for Sunday, so I will finally site down after too long and make time to make up stuff.


Final Word

As always, if you are looking for a project to collaborate on, or have an idea you feel is pretty kickass and want to pursue it further, shoot me a line.

Bits and More Bits

Rubes, Rakes, Roges & Roustabouts available for purchase. Several copies sold so far - working on wholesale marketing.

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Working on rereading McSweeney's 16. I really love Mudder Tongue by Brian Evenson and There Is No Real Name for Where We Live by Hannah Pitard. Two stories with (for entirely different reasons) fabulous words woven together.

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Just tonight I have signed up to collaborate with ACME Cocktail on a new project that will, for now, be untitled. Once we flesh the little bugger out, that may change.

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Even though I made fun of it at first, I must admit I have consumed more than one Budlight Lime this evening.

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I'm excited about a new publisher in Brookline launching in October. Madras Press. Can't wait to see what they have to bring to the party.

Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts

The time has come for me to officially release Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts. The concept came to me while looking at old archived photos and wondering what the stories were behind the faces.

Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts is a picture book for adults. Not an adult picture book, which is something else entirely.

Go to http://nickseagers.com/rubes and check out a sample. All copies are signed and can include customized text for the price of a delicious candy bar.

During this pre-order period, all copies are $10 which includes all shipping, handling, and bar tabs. Please email nick@nickseagers.com for wholesale inquiries.

The Tale of the Doughnut and the Éclair

Taped to my bedroom door is an aerial photo of Vernon, ME. It’s one of Taff’s flyers from the Society of Concerned Citizens to Thwart Evil. In black marker over the tree line, it reads, “We need to talk, Albert.” She must have been watching those anti-drug commercials like that time she kept frying all those eggs and made the house smell like farts for two weeks. That was when Michael and I decided that our folks were cracked.

So I try to track her down so I can get whatever this is going to be over with. It took several years, but I had finally mastered the art of talking with Taff and Dow. The key was to pay close attention to tone. The words themselves were usually trivial and confusing – even awkward – watching them trip over the easy subjects and plow through the rough ones. When the tone of the conversation goes up, you start nodding, with your head tilted just so. When the tone gets low, drop your head to the table and stare at the grain of the wood until the voices stop altogether. Then say, “I know. You’re right. I’ll try to work on that.

God knows what Taff wanted to talk about this time. Let it be something simple, like she finally wants to tell me she and Dow really are going to pay for college and I shouldn’t worry anymore. Then a pat on the head, or a hug or something and I can go to Chip’s party and get messed up.

Taff was in the dining room, heels up on the table, finishing up a call. “Sounds good to me. Great, great. Okay, Thomas, I’ve got to go. We’ll speak soon.” Her legs swing down to the floor. She smiles when she looks at me, only it’s the same way she smiles at a prospective client. “Okay, Thomas,” she says into the phone. “Have a nice day.” She hangs up. On the table she has her laptop and folders and flyers and pamphlets and a box of pastries for her next rally. I had nabbed the only jelly earlier. She pulled me down here because I stole a donut?

“Albert. Good morning.” Her palm makes a slow turn off to the side.

“Morning.”

And she smiles again, this one a little too forced. In the other room you can hear the host of a fake talk show talk about a book that shows how to make compost in fourteen days, guaranteed or your money back. Dow must be asleep or otherwise sedated.

“I know this may be a little late, but your dad and I talked about it. We want to do it. We –“ Taff turns and yells into the other room, “Dow! I said we need to do this together. As a family.” Her words are tight and clipped, then soft again. “I scheduled some time today to talk to you about something…something important. Since you’re going on with your life, leaving everything you’ve known so far, you’re going to need some information about sex.”

Oh, God. “Sex?”

“Yes. Intercourse. Conception. Contraception. Overpopulation.”

“Yeah, um, I know it all. They teach it in school. I’m all set. They do the whole guy stuff and girl stuff and how they fit together and all that”

“You don’t say?” Taff turns to face the living room. “Dow! In here now, please!” She turns. “I swear your father has selective hearing.” Taff is an expert about judging tone.

Dow slumps into the room, remote still in his hand. He moves it to the breast pocket of his pajamas and sits down, hands in his lap. “Yeah? We’re doing this now?” His eyes are still glazed over from staring at the screen. Toll-free numbers are written in different colors on his right hand up to the wrist.

Taff takes a deep breath. “Now, I know you guys, you teenagers, are running around, excited,” Dow laughs, “and I want you to know that if you have anything you ever need to talk about, I’m here. Your father is here. We will listen.”

“Thanks,” I say, about to get up.

She opens the box of pastries, and takes out a powdered donut and an éclair. “For our purposes, today, the éclair represents a man’s penis, and the donut represents a woman’s vagina. Ok?”

My eyes close. This can’t really be happening. At least they aren’t doing it in public. Jesus. At some fundraiser or down at the diner, that’s when I would have prayed for execution.

“Now,” Dow clears his throat and jabbers on. “When a man and a woman are in love and get married and have been married for many, many years, they are allowed to have sexual intercourse.”

“Many years?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t Michael already born when you two got married?”

Taff ignores me. “Now, the éclair is placed inside of the donut repeatedly, in a thrusting motion.” She’s trying to fit the éclair into the tiny hole of the donut, but she’s only succeeding in getting powdered sugar all over the business end of it.

“Please don’t say thrusting,” I beg.

“Sorry, dear,” she says. “Okay, now, when stimulation has reached its desired effect, called climax or orgasm, the éclair will shoot its vanilla cream into the middle of the donut and this is how babies are made.”

From where I can’t see, Dow pulls out a condom and starts opening it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on here?” I ask. More blood rushes to my head than during my last kegstand.

“We just wanted to be sure you understood how safe sex can help to extend your life,” Dow says. “Remember, Albert, safe sex isn’t just up to the girl. Whether your chosen partner is on the pill, the patch or trusting the day-after thing, it’s still your responsibility to wear a condom.”

Dow’s hands are covered in chocolate and the vanilla filling of the éclair, none of it fitting into the condom. He gives up and starts to knock the smashed pastry against the too-small hole of the doughnut, sprinkling powdered sugar all over Taff’s literature. “This is how-“

“Please. Stop,” I said. “I’ll clean. I’ll re-shingle the roof. Anything.” My eyes were nailed shut so that when the nightmares of this embarrassment came, there would only be audio. But they pop open anyway.

“Now, there are many options for birth control. I think it’s important you know all the options. Getting a sexually transmitted disease is like having your neighborhood taken from you. If you do the proper research and take precautions, the odds are drastically decreased.” Taff pulls a list from her pocket. “There’s abstinence, of course. Most effective. A woman can use the shot or patch or pill or diaphragm. Think about sterilization. The ways your father and I used,” she looks across the table, “Dow, do you remember how naïve we were? We used the big three before having – well, children. There was the rhythm method, coitus interruptus, and we even tried non-vaginal sex.”

Toss me into a lava bath and burn it all away.

Taff takes the smashed éclair penis from Dow and bites the head off, chewing and smiling. “So. I know that’s a lot of information to toss at you all at once, but I’m sure it will sink in. Any questions?”

Can’t move. Can’t speak. Praying for blindness so I never again have to see anything like that. Dow has retreated back to the glow of the television, and Taff’s back on the phone, talking to Mr. Detmer about speaking at the rally as a local merchant. What she calls ‘voice of the community.’ Trying to save this hell we call life.

Making a mental note of what I need for tonight, I get up from the table. Taff smiles and waves and smiles again and my stomach twists a little and I duck around the corner fast in case some doughnut comes up.

Ways I Keep From Writing

Over the past few weeks I've been telling myself to get up, get out and get writing. Hasn't worked out too well for me lately though, so in an effort to procrastinate even more I have compiled a short list of ways I keep from writing.


Planning

Possibly my biggest downfall. I should have figured out by now that planning to write is like thinking about jogging (which I will expound more upon in my next post: Ways I Keep From Exercising).

I wonder if there is a way to calculate all of the mental energy I put into planning about writing?

In the end, all I have succeeded to do is rename the curse of 'procrastination' into the chore of 'planning'.
Note: I'm really good at this one.


I Got Stuff To Do

What a steaming pile of dung this one is. But to be honest, I'm a busy person. I mean, c'mon - I stop at the grocery store, I go to work, I gas up the car, I do the laundry, I was the dishes, I go out to dinner with my wife. Then again, so is everyone else.

I guess I just need to get the fuck over it.

I'm always telling myself to to keep writing down all of the characters and events that pop into my head, like the top heavy woman I saw at the grocery store who wore a D.A.R.E. t-shirt and tasselled leather booties who was pushing a shopping cart full of eggplants and chocolate chips and the whole time I'm praying she drives the Prius in the parking lot with the flame paint job.


Writer's Block

See: Planning


Blogging

I know, you're shouting at me from over top your frothing cappomochalattegrande and you're saying that writing a blog post still counts as writing. In the back of my head where the little people are constantly muttering at me to get off my duff and just put pen to paper already, blogging doesn't entirely count. It's something to do, the way flipping through the channels for an hour looking for something to watch is something to do.


Surfing

A lot of time is spent investigating the interwebs for ways to keep from writing. For the most part I succeed at this. I find insane grilled bacon-wrapped-bacon recipes or videos of kids dancing in a hilarious way on the rug in their den.

Once in a great while I come up with something that thwarts my procrastination and gives me quality ideas that edge me in the right direction.

Like this.

New Site Design Launch

While I hash out a few shipping errors with the good folks publishing Rubes, Rakes, Rogues & Roustabouts, I have taken the time to redesign my site, NickSeagers.com. Took down much of the clutter and nonsense and I'm quite happy with what's going on with it. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.