Sunday, 29 April 2012

Another Poem? Ridiculous.

Whoever read this before, and didn't bother to tell me that I mispelled ridiculous in the title, is a booger face. 

Okay, so I am still not a poet, and I haven't bothered to learn any more about writing poems than I knew when I wrote the first one, which was nothing.  Nevertheless, an old friend of mine, Heather, gushed about how much she loved "Questions," so I offered to write something just for her.  She liked the idea, and I asked that she supply the theme.  For reasons of her own, she chose for me to write about failed relationships and giving up on love (girls are like that sometimes).  I completed it a couple of hours ago, and she is quite pleased with it.  She has allowed me to post it here, and has assured me that it's equal to the challenge of public scrutiny.  So, let's get on with it:

Written for Heather Parsons.
“No brighter a light in the darkness of one’s own night can there be than She.”
~ CJ Carver

No Explanation Required

When will it end?
How will it end?
Is the end a beginning?
Is the end just…

I think, you’re thoughtless
I speak, you ignore.
I listen, you’re silent.
I feel, you’re numb.

You’re gone, again.
I’m lonely, again.
It hurts, again.
I’m lost, again.

I’m tired of this shit.

Does any man know?
No explanation required?
An unfair desire?…

Try again?
You’ve changed?

Fine, show me…
If I think?
If I speak?
If I listen?
If I feel?

And, so you show me…
When I think, you think only of you.
When I speak, you hear only you.
When I listen, you talk only to you.
When I feel, you feel only you.

Must know you, to love me?
Yes, but…
Know me too?
No, only you.
You’ve forgotten me.

You’re gone, again.
I’m lonely, again.
It hurts, again.
I’m lost, again.

I’m tired of this shit.

Does any man know?
No explanation required?
An unfair desire?…

One more time?
Dare I?
You won’t go?
I won’t be lonely, hurt, lost?

I must try, but…
Not with him.

He’ll go.
I’ll be lonely.
It’ll hurt.
I’ll be lost...


I’m tired of this shit, but…

He doesn’t know.
Explanation is required, so…
I won’t!

I will try anew…
A new place.
A new face.
A new try.

Fear descends upon me.
Clothed in unfamiliarity.
My Heart, mind and spirit tremble.
Doubt reigns supreme.

Does any man know?
No explanation required?
An unfair desire?
Too bad.

New Place…
Is this the place?
Does he know this place? 
He who knows?

New face…
Are these the faces?
Would I know his face?
His knowing face?

New Tries…
Try what, with who?
Will he try, with me?
He will know, and try.

Hope glints peripherally...

His steel figure moves.
My magnet eyes follow.
His gaze shines my way.
My eyes held hostage.

He strides confidently.
He looks intently.
He Speaks slowly.
He thinks quickly.

He knows
No explanation required.
No unfair desire.
For, so he speaks…

I am a man who knows.
I’ll explain…

I know me, to love you.
And I’ll know you, to love you.

When you think, I will think of you.
When you speak, I will hear you.
When you listen, I will speak to you.
When you feel, I will feel you.

I will not go.
You’ll not be lonely, again.
You’ll not hurt, again.
You’ll not be lost, again.

You’ll not tire of this shit.

Friday, 27 April 2012

1000 Followers... Why Not?

If you're reading this, you either have a mild interest in what I am up to, or I have shamelessly cajoled you until you popped over just to shut me up.  Either way, I would greatly appreciate it if you click on the "Join this site" button by scrolling down to the panel under my Facebook picture, on the right side of the main screen, where the people are listed who are already following.  Then, follow the prompts to register through an existing networking service that you use, such as GMail, Twitter, Yahoo, or whatever.  I have this ridiculous goal of attracting 1000 followers - yes, one thousand - by the time I complete my autobiography. 

Assuming that the book takes me 2 years to complete, I will need to gain an average of roughly 1.5 followers a day.  So, yeah, it's not likely to happen.  But I don't care, and am going to try anyway.  I mean, I abandoned the pursuit of a full-time teaching career to try and make it as a writer, so there isn't much point in aiming low.  Besides, the odds against attracting 1000 followers are no more daunting than those against getting published, and I'm obviously trying to do that.

So, if you're still reading, you might as well got ahead and "follow," this blog, post it on your Facebook wall, tell a friend, tweet it or whatever else might be of help in my attempt to gain maximum exposure and attract 1000 followers. (actually, we're down to 996 as of tonight.)

Thanks for all of your support,.

DG Gass' "Ghosts of Arlington"

I've mentioned DG's "Ghosts of Arlingtion" in a previous post, but felt compelled to create a stand-alone post to plug her book.  From what I've read, it's a pretty kick-ass yarn about a war veteran who commits suicide, and his wife's subsequent courage in dealing with tragic memories, fear, the paranormal and politics. 

Click on the link to DG's website below to read reviews, the first five chapters and purchase the book.


Thursday, 26 April 2012

Les Edgerton on Writing Voice

Visit Kristen Lamb's blog, and read a fantastic sampling of Edgerton's book, "Finding Your Voice."  Just click on the link below.

If you love what you see, and you will, click the link below to view and purchase "Finding Your Voice" at

Excerpts from the Introduction and Chapters 1-2


"Fear of failure prevents many people from taking on a project, of course, but my greatest fear has always been venturing down this stark road alone, down lanes of memory replete with pain, regret, shame and so on. I still fear this, but I am at a point in my life where my pain exceeds my fear, and I now know that I must write this book if I am to have any relief; any freedom."

"While there was much drunken, drug-induced idiocy throughout my life, particularly during my years as an adult entertainer, I refuse to hide behind the facile excuse of temporary insanity brought on by intoxication ... I made a decision to live a morally questionable and risky life based on perceived rewards, and, far short of removing my sense of right and wrong, the drinking and drugging merely minimized my give-a-shit factor."

Chapter 1 - My Earliest Memories

"I seemed to make friends with the other children in my neighbourhood fairly easily and was, all-in-all, a pretty likable kid. I didn’t get into any major trouble, wasn’t a rebel of any note and hadn’t yet come to prefer my own company. I certainly hadn’t developed the deep sense of misanthropy that would later become the lens through which I chose to see the world."

Chapter 2 - Home Life as a Boy

"All of the houses in the picture were black and white except for one, which was fully coloured in. Our teacher asked us what we thought the coloured-in house represented ... “Home; it reminds me of home," someone said ... "There is an old saying:  'home is where the heart is,'" the teacher said ... I must have sank into my chair with just about the most contemptuous look a sixth grader can muster painted on my face.  By the age of 11, I was already proficient in the art of cynicism, and fluent in expletives.  Sorry, teach, home isn't where the fucking heart is in my world, I thought bitterly." 

"To this day, I remember the smell of my dad's clothes when he came home from work: the sharp scent of steel mingled with the oil, dirt and fumes that he waded through all day in the factory ... I thought my dad was the smartest, toughest and most understanding man on the planet. I wanted to be him, and I watched him carefully."

"My mother and father couldn’t be more different in character, personality and temperament. How they are still together, nearly 40 years later, and they’re both still alive, is a mystery to me. My best guess is that my dad has a rather traditional view of the institution of marriage, took his vows seriously, and only sees two viable options for terminating the marriage: his death or hers."

"I would be absolutely self sufficient, relying on no one but me. I would thus avoid disappointment and eliminate the possibility of developing and fostering the kind of resentments that seemed to cripple my mother. Obviously, my plan wasn’t as airtight as I had imagined, and it wasn’t long before I was just as socially isolated as she seemed to be."

Book Excerpts

After consulting with a respected friend and colleague,* I have decided that I am going to include some excerpts from each chapter of my autobiography as I go along.  Please keep in mind that everything is subject to change until the book is published. (should the God of Literature will such a thing).  So, whatever excerpts I post may or may not be included when the dust settles.  Nevertheless, I think it will be nice to provide a few small examples of what I'm up to, and perhaps even create and nurture a bit of a buzz among those who choose to follow this project. 

I will create a separate post for the excerpts from the Introduction and first two chapters to save those who have already read those posts the aggravation of revisiting them.  From now on, however, the excerpts will be included in their respective chapter's post.


* The friend who I am referring to is D.G. Gass, author of "Ghosts of Arlington."  Check out her book by clicking on the link below.

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

A Poem?

A couple of things before you read this piece:  I am not a poet.  This looks like a poem, but I cannot say with authority that it is one because I did not study English, and I have no knowledge of the various forms of poetry, and their mechanics.  Also, I wrote this for my friend, Erin, for no other reason than that she was having one of "those" days/weeks (you know them).  As my gift to her, it is her "poem," and she has always been free to do whatever it is that she sees fit with it.  Much to my delight, she seems to genuinely like it, has it posted on her Facebook wall and has graciously allowed me to post it here.  I hope you enjoy it....


She stares into the mirror.
So many questions.
Who is real, who is fake?
Her reflection stares back blankly.
Something in her stirs uncomfortably.
She doesn’t know what else to do.

Frustrated, she speaks..
This cannot be it, she pleads in a whisper.
What are we here for, you and I?
Can I trust you with my secrets?
Her reflection merely mocks her.
Her desperate questions asked back simultaneously.
She will receive no answers.

Tears roll down her cheeks.
There is so little time to waste.
Loneliness envelopes her.
Even her reflection is a cold stranger today.

Will we ever have it again?
She continues her relentless interrogation.
Her reflection a mute conspirator in misery.
Equally relentless in offering no answers.
No comfort.

She turns her back on the mirror.
She ventures deep within herself.
It’s quiet, dark and painful, today.
She picks up the interrogation...

Am I to be alone; is that my fate?
She listens...
Anxious, sad and frustrated.
She listens...
A quiet, but firm answer.

Startled, she’s curious, suspicious.
I am not to be alone forever?
I won’t feel lost?
They won’t all hurt me?
The voice is loud, fierce.

Echoes of the railing trail off.
Timidly, she speaks...
I will be happy?
And how do you know?
Suspicion grows.
If I don’t, who does?

Who are you?
One who loves you.
Why do you speak harshly, then?
Because I love you.

Confusion dominates her..
I am you, and I love you.
An answer to her unspoken confusion.

Realization floods her being.
Rapidly, she fires off questions.
Can I really do this?
How will I/we do it?
Can I trust you?
Have faith.

She is incredulous.
Faith in what?
She smiles, understanding.

One last question tugs at her.
She isn’t sure she wants the answer.
She braces herself.

Where is God?
She waits….
She despairs.
The inner voice doesn’t know, she concludes.
She turns to the mirror.
Her reflection smiles back.
Right here.

~CJ Carver

Commenting and Following.

Hello, Everyone:

I am new to this whole blogging deal, so I am learning as I go.  Last night, as I was poking around, trying new things in here, I noticed that the "comment" feature was limited to "followers."  I changed it to "anyone" (or something similar), so that anyone who wishes to may comment.  In fact, you may post anonymously if you prefer.  I respect your right to privacy, and your right to tell me that you think I am a windbag without me hunting you down and blowing said wind at you. :-)  Also, if you intend to follow this blog, please click the "Follow" button on the main page (upper left, I believe).  This will help with my stats, exposure etc.

Thanks for all the support,

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Outline, Introduction and Chapters 1-2

I have completed about 2/3 of the comprehensive outline that I have been playing around with for the past few days.  I grew bored soon, however, and turned my attention to revising my the introduction, and first two chapters, to better reflect the new outline and its superior organisation. 

In my enthusiasm, I had initially rushed headlong into the memoir, sketching only a very loose outline and, not surprisingly, as I trudged along, I found that my hasty effort was inadequate.  This caused much anxiety, and I finally resigned myself to starting over.  I was stressed because I only had one copy of the first draft that I had turned out of the introduction and Chapter 1, and this last copy was in a file format that I could open, but not edit, which left me with no choice but to re-type it.

The truth is that I was fortunate to be able to retrieve that copy from my e-mail.  Over a two-week period, I broke my external HD, my jump drive died, and the computer that I am using needed to be re-formatted.  I suddenly had no data, no resumes, no work.  What I had done was gone.    Somehow, I managed to resurrect my thumb for just long enough to transfer my resumes, which I am particularly grateful for because I would not want to have to redo them. 

I used this opportunity to completely overhaul what I had written, and plot a clearer course.  I am happy that I did, and am now in a position to just follow the outline and tell my story.  I'm looking forward to this more than ever now.


Monday, 23 April 2012

The beginning.

So, I suppose this is the beginning of my writing journey.  I will be writing my autobiography over, well, I'm hoping, probably unrealistically, the next 18 - 24 months.  I've recently moved back to Canada from South Korea, where I was teaching English, and have been staying with my parents, in Chatham, ON., while wrapping up my divorce.

I will be moving to Sarnia, ON. on May 4th, where I will be residing with my aunt and uncle until the end of the summer.  Once I am settled in Sarnia, I will begin writing in earnest.  When school starts in the Fall, I will be substitute teaching for the Catholic School Board, which will, hopefully, allow me to afford my own apartment. 

I will endeavour to be consistent in posting updates about my progress through the book, but must admit that I have never been very good with these journal-type exercises.  It is my hope that, having gone public in the form of a blog, I will feel accountable to whoever decides to follow it.  Wish me luck!