Author Archives: Michael

Why Horror?

Why do I write horror? I suppose every writer is asked at some point what inspired them to write about the things they do, and I found myself thinking about that tonight (connected to certain memories that have been playing unbidden of late). I’ve answered that question before. On the author page of this very site, I describe some of the events I and others witnessed in my childhood home, and how it changed my perception of the world, and how it made me think about the true nature of reality. This was an inspiration, to be sure, but that is but one among many. When I was younger, I wrote more comedy than I did anything else. I can still be funny – in my own way – when I feel inspired in that direction. I’ve written emotional pieces on the state of the human condition, technical papers, editorials, and just about everything in between. Inspiration does not necessarily dictate a choice in genre.
Yes, growing up witnessing certain unexplained (or difficult to explain) phenomena and events had a dramatic effect on my view of the world, but there were other events just as impactful. During that same period, my grandfather and his family had two contracts put out on their lives. I could just as easily chosen spy thriller fiction or police/investigative fiction, or forensic detection. Any genre I chose would be written with the same ability in terms of plot, description, and dialogue (whatever that level of ability may be).
For artists, all creation is an expression of their perceptions, and they are driven to express these perceptions, as opposed to someone who produces a product. I’m not making any judgement on which is better; I am stating my observations of what defines an artist.
So again, why did I choose to write in the horror and strange fiction genre? Inspiration is part of the equation, I suppose, but upon reflection, I know it is only a portion of the whole. I think the real reason I write in this area is because I’ve witnessed a good deal of horror in my life, personally, in the lives of others, and in the systems that govern our lives. In some ways, I see it still, every day. Writing helps channel those experiences, to keep them from becoming a permanent resident within my inner being. I think this applies to most true artists, and most definitely applies in my case. In the second half of my life, I’ve suffered events that have left permanent effects, and that too adds a sense of impending mortality, which is one factor I believe is common in most who write in the horror genre. The lasting effects of those events, physical, emotional, and social, is best lessened by creative endeavor, and when those effects are most severe, the more creative I am driven to become.
So there you have it; some personal reflections from yours truly.

Until next time,

~namaste

Misprints

Greetings,

My apologies to those who purchased copies of my second book.  Apparently, the file I uploaded to the printer was corrupted, even though in review I did not detect any errors.  I do not know if I saved an old file over an edited version, or what, but somewhere along the way, the version that saw print was littered with corrupted text and other errors.  I managed to correct these over the last two weeks, and have resubmitted the manuscript.

So, if you purchased a copy, I owe you a new one.  Please feel free to contact me through my Facebook page, and I will send you a signed copy on me. If you purchased the Kindle version, I will make sure you get an updated copy for free. It’s the lease I can do for those who support my work.
Again, my apologies.

Until next time,

~Namaste

Writing Update – 2-25-2021

Greetings,

My new fiction WIP is nearing the halfway point on the first draft.  I am currently working on chapter 26 of 52 outlined, although this may be subject to change.  This novel will be something of a departure in some ways from the standard, but I really cannot say more without giving it away.  A few close friends are in the know, of course, because I’m basically a hermit and it gives me something to talk about on those rare occasions where I take a break from my cloistered life, but I don’t like spoilers, so I’ll be keeping things under my hat for now.

I do my best to write every day, although real life and physical limits do intervene from time to time.  I am hoping to have the first draft completed sometime around mid-May, although this too will change.  I’ll post further updates in the future.

Until Next Time…

~Namaste

The End of A Local Landmark

I was saddened to learn today of the passing of a local institution, almost a landmark in the Portsmouth and Chesapeake area, one that holds many pleasant memories for myself and my first two children, as well as many others.

This was my weekend to have my little one, and in the course of playing Saturday night, she set up some play bowling pins from when she was a toddler, and pretended her dolls were bowling.  I mentioned her older sister (my two older children do the same, and also refer to their mother’s children by her second marriage as sisters) was a duckpin bowling champion, and she voiced the desire to try the game herself, and I offered to take her to Victory Lanes.

I checked online, and it appeared to be open today, although when I called, I received a recording saying the number was not valid.  Deciding to take a chance, we drove there, and although the van for children’s league was in the parking lot, the building was closed. Not wishing to disappoint my little girl, I took her to Funville indoor playground instead, where she was able to run and play.  She was happy to go, but stated she would really have liked to see if she was anywhere near as good as her older sister.

My first two children both participated in the chldren’s duckpin league at Victory Lanes throughout their stay in Virginia.  It was initially done as an activity – the sort of regular thing that all children can benefit from – and despite some initial reluctance, they both blossomed under the instruction of Mr. Askew, the children’s duckpin league coordinator.  Under his tutelage, the both became excellent players, along with many of their team mates (although my oldest daughter was unquestionably one of, if not the, best among them). Simply put, they became kick-ass duckpin bowlers.  There wasn’t enough room on their bowling shirts for more patches, no more room for their trophies.  They met many fascinating and fun people, got to compete in a friendly atmosphere in a skill-based sport.

In 2002, Mr. Askew passed away.  The league at Victory Lanes were determined to honor his memory, and set about bowling their way to the National Championship, becoming almost unstoppable, leading at least two teams and both my daughters to the final competition.  My oldest daughter led her team in many of the achievements, and the team dedicated their win to the memory of their teacher.

I have only fond memories of the man, and the many lessons he imparted.  My first two were the age my little one is now when they first began bowling, and formed friendships that would last many years, ones that spanned race, gender, and even sexuality.  The only thing that mattered, was they were all part of the same team, and it was a lesson that was learned through the easy interaction and the bonds of team competition.

Sadly, duckpin bowling seems to be a dying sport in this country, and that is a shame.  It has so much to offer to children and adults, both socially in an entertainment value.  It is an indoor sport that does not involve hard impact on the body, and is just plain fun.  Whether a victim of the pandemic, or a move toward more home-based electronic entertainment, places like Victory Lanes are a dying breed, and that is a cause for regret.  For me, it came as a reminder of how quickly things change, and how precious our memories really are.

Until next time,’

Namaste

Writing Excerpt – Valentine’s Day

The following is a writing excerpt from the first draft of my upcoming non-fiction work, much of which consists of private journal entries going back to the origins of my last relationship to the current day.

Valentine’s Day.  Those that know me well, know I used to be the romantic type.  I enjoyed surprising both my significant other and my daughters with reminders of how much they mean to my life, buying them gifts and taking them on adventures.  These days, however, this day only serves as a reminder of how much I have lost, of how willing my ex-wife was to tear apart our family and bring false allegations against me in order to steal away my little one.  As much as I do not want to think about it, my mind keeps turning to fact she is likely having a romantic weekend with the ghetto trash for which she went to the effort of causing so much pain to others. The injustice of this cannot be escaped, no matter how much I attempt to distract myself.  Worse, it comes with the knowledge I will never again know the pleasure of an intimate embrace, never feel my arms around a woman as I pass into sleep, will never have that empty room in my heart filled.  The realization of how much my life has been changed by the abuse I suffered, of how much it has changed me as a person, are not pleasant thoughts, and haunt me every day of my life, this day in particular.

Valentine’s Day will never be the same for me again.  Then again, nothing has been the same ever since I discovered the true extent of Michelle’s cheating, the depth of her evil intentions, and the lengths she would go to lie. Had I not been through some of the previous traumas I have experienced, I would be able to heal faster from the physical damage I experienced, but that, combined with the effects of the abuse on my immune system and general health, has all but destroyed my body’s natural healing ability, as well as my immune system.

This is bad, but nothing compares to the emotional wounds, which are fresh today as the day they were inflicted.  I have doubt I will live long enough to heal from those cuts to my emotional self, for they take longer to recover from than mere physical damage, as any victim can attest.  The combination of both – with a world pandemic thrown in the mix – has made even the simplest aspects of my life more difficult

I don’t say these things out of self-pity; it is merely an expression of truth, of how I feel, and the events which inspired them.  This negative emotional connection is now associated with so many days of the year, including all the holidays, but the fourteenth day of the month is especially hard.  November 14th is my former wedding anniversary, April 14th my ex-wife’s birthday, and then there is today.  Even after more than three years, the wounds are as fresh now as they were then.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t disparage others who are capable of enjoying this holiday, but for me, it appears it will forever be a reminder of everything that has happened and continues to happen to me as a result of abuse.  I no longer believe a normal relationship is possible in my life, and even if it is, it is not worth the risk of encountering another narcissist in my life.  This is the extent to which such toxic relationships can affect the victim, and I will always encourage anyone involved in one to get out while they can, lest they suffer possibly life-changing – or even life-ending – consequences.

Revealing Insults

Greetings,

I recently have been doing more stuff on social media again, as I try to follow any marketing path for my writing that does not involve expenditures I cannot currently afford.  i know I should stick to advertising and marketing related posts, but there are some subjects, such as narcissistic and domestic abuse, that can stir me to make a comment.  Because of my own history of being a victim of both, I will occasionally comment on the gender-bias and stigmas males face in this area.  I advise them to run, do not walk, to the nearest exit and take any and all legal steps to protect themselves.

l should know better, but…

So, naturally, whenever I make these sorts of comments, it is inevitable that some feminazi will call me an ‘incel’.  This is a revealing insult, and says much about those making it:

  1.  It says the person making the insult is offended by the notion any man can choose not to be swayed by feminine wiles.  Is that all this person has to offer?
  2.  It reveals the person does not actually believe in equality, which is always the crux of my comments, but believes in superiority.
  3. It implies that anyone suggesting men stay single in a gender-biased society is involuntarily celibate, by definition, as if they are weak or somehow inferior in the eyes of women, or have nothing to offer, which is sexist as all hell, and could not be further from the truth.
  4. It states the person is fine with double standards and inequality, as long as they can bitch about it.
  5. They show their own gender-bias in terms of domestic and narcissistic abuse; it’s okay for women to abuse men, but any man that abuses a woman is a monster.  This staggers my mind, actually.  Abuse is abuse, and equally evil regardless of gender.

And those are just the first few things to spring to mind.  It would seem to me that maybe these people may have lost a few relationships because they were emasculating bitches.  Just sayin’.

Yes, I am now a hermit.  After suffering a decade of emotional and other abuse, I chose to take myself out of the game. There’s nothing involuntary about it, and it’s not an easy choice for me, as anyone who knows me (and knows my libido) can attest.  I actually love women…a lot.  There are more than one I’ve pined for, and still do, but when your life has been devastated as mine has, the priority is repairing the damage, and making sure it never happens again.  For me, the choice was clear, if not welcome.  On the upside, however, such comments show me that I made the right choice.

Just another rant.  Thanks for reading.

Until next time…

~Namaste

2021: From Bad to Worse?

Greetings,

Well, here it is, the last day of 2020. I’d like to say I was happy for it to be over, that I was confident the coming year will prove to be a good one for all, but that is simply not true. What I see coming is more of the same shit – both for me and everyone else impacted by the strange world we now find ourselves in. More lockdowns, more authoritarianism than you can shake a stick at, more division as the carefully orchestrated political and social engineering continues its inexorable path toward extinction of our freedom, and those on the right reveal their true sociopathic nature.
Not that the left is really any better. Biden showed his true colors today when he appointed ‘Mr. Monsanto’ as head of the USDA. This does not bode well, nor does the news he plans on trying to ‘work with’ the same sociopaths that have tried their best to help the orange idiot currently in the White House stage a coup, and who repeatedly have shown themselves to nothing but puppets for corporations and the narcissists that own and run them.
If we, as a people, do not get our priorities straight in the coming year, if we do not realize just how rotten the system has become, and begin to take steps to correct it, then things will continue to get worse. It would be nice if we could correct things, cut out the infection, before it kills the patient, but I fear things will continue to spiral until it collapses, and we will once again be forced to rise from the ashes. The powerful are taking steps to make sure only they survive, so it is in the best interest of everyone else to make sure this does not happen, in my opinion.
For me, personally, I see 2021 as a year wherein I may finish 2 or possibly three books, which is a good thing creatively, but financially, I know things will be harder, as they will likely be for everyone. I do not market my books as I should; I’m too busy writing and designing in addition to the other hats I’m required to wear, and this is not likely to change in the coming year. If anything, things will most likely be even busier, the struggle to survive harder, and the returns even more sparse.
A grim picture, overall. For me, as a victim of emotional abuse and a gender-biased and corrupt court system, I have found little to know help for the physical and mental damage that continues to plague me. Anxiety and depression are rampant these days, and for me, the abuse I suffered exacerbated both these conditions. The next year is sure to have me facing these with increased severity, and the only means I have to combat them are my creative pursuits and the company of my little girl.
Hopefully, they will be enough.
I give my best wishes to all my friends, and to the world at large, and hope they have a happier year in the coming days than what they were given in 2020. One thing is for sure – in order to have a brighter future, we will all need to work toward it.

Until Next Time –

A Narcissistic Christmas

Another Christmas.
It would have been at least somewhat pleasurable, despite the memories this and all holidays now instill in me due to the narcissistic abuse I suffered for a decade. I got to spend some time with my little one, and even though I have an extremely limited income (most going to my abuser, more salt in the wound twice a month, and a reminder of how little justice there is in our court system), I managed to get a fair collection of presents for my daughter. She was delighted to get them, and I enjoyed watching her open her gifts, one of the few pleasures I have left in this world. Had I been left alone, the holiday would have at least have had some moments untarnished by the effects I live with every day.
But of course, one of the many trademark behaviors of a narcissist is that they cannot let holidays or other special occasions pass without attempting to control the emotional reactions of their former and present victims. This behavior can range from the obvious, to the very subtle and sublime. In the case of my ex-wife, it takes the form of the latter, usually disguised as ‘friendly communication’, texts that are sent to your phone intended for ‘someone else’, and other actions that would appear innocent to those who are ignorant of narcissists, or of the particular person in question. I get to deal with both, and know the true purpose behind such – reminders of the pain, of the discard, and the ghetto rat my family was torn apart for.
Case in point, when they send you ‘innocent’ pictures of holiday gatherings, with subtle or not so subtle objects in the background. To an outside observer, this may seem accidental, but make no mistake: the narc knows exactly what they are doing. I know I should expect such behavior, and do what I can to avoid it by not engaging, but I cannot completely avoid contact, as we share a child. Even after three years, such things stab deep, and bring with it all the normal reactions I have when faced with betrayal, cowardice, and a complete lack of honor or even common sense. After all this time, the wounds still feel fresh, and likely will for as long as I continue to feel the effects, physical, emotional, and financial, that was inflicted on me by a such a creature. This will in all likelihood be for the remainder of my time here on earth, and I cannot stress to anyone dealing with these sociopaths the importance of getting out while there is still time, for the damage can be severe, even life-altering. Should they gain a foothold to the point where you become a victim, nothing and nowhere is safe. Nothing is sacred, from the vows of marriage, to the smallest of traditions or pleasures. Do yourself a favor, and get them out of your life.
Otherwise, your life could be tainted forever.

Three Years

It was three years ago today that a narcissist had me jailed for a crime I did not commit in order to get custody of my daughter, and made the court system of Virginia complicit in a multitude of crimes, including perjury, larceny, adultery, assault, battery, and general domestic abuse, and kidnapping. The experience almost killed me, and left me without sensation or mobility on my right side for six weeks.
All so she could chase after a p.o.s. ghetto rat.
I’m sure her parents and other flying monkeys are proud.
I’m certain many will find my language and attitude to be somewhat bitter. Too fucking bad. Facts are facts, and truth stands alone.
The fact of the matter is, it’s always just fine as long as the victim just continues to take the punishment, but heaven forbid if they actually stand up for themselves. This is true for both domestic abuse, and the idiots in the legislature and court system (most likely composed of narcissists themselves) who condone a gender-biased system, and write nebulous laws to feed their for-profit prison systems.
We have a serious problem in this country, a festering infection that has pervaded our society, one born of greed for money and power, and is rotting the very nature of humanity from within and without. I wish I could say this is just a phase, that I feel confident we will elevate ourselves as a society and a species, and improve the human condition, but the signs are not good. I do not think for a moment that the conditions the world is operating in now, just at the time when discontent with both authoritarianism and corporate greed was sweeping the world, a time when the human race was just beginning to wake from their enslavement, was simply a coincidence.
And before anyone wants to use the term ‘conspiracy theory’ in my direction, keep in mind I knew the term was going to be introduced into the American lexicon before it happened. No, I don’t have any confidence things will get better. Watch and see – I’ll bet money things will get worse, and due to the effective programming and social engineering taking place, most will not even know it. They’ll be more than happy to dismiss anyone who knows better, however, and do their best to serve their masters.
As for me, I’ll keep being a free-thinking pain in the ass, thank you very much, and point out the sick, twisted, corrupt shit wherever I find it. I call a spade a spade, boys and girls, and I’m going to keep doing so.
Yes, I have an attitude – the same attitude whenever anyone is victimized by these greedy, narcissistic pieces of shit, whether it is me, or anyone else. Before my life was destroyed by the worst sort of deliberate deception (one I’ll never allow the chance of occurring again), I was more than vocal in my defense against such things, and it is time to be so once again.
At least that is one part of me that wasn’t killed off in the last three years.
This is why I’m writing a book detailing my experiences with my now ex-wife, the court system, and everyone involved in the matter. And I’ll name names. Let them come for me too – they won’t like the result. Darkness never likes having the light shone upon it, and the more they try, the brighter it will get.
There’s my rant for the day. Another day to celebrate with regret, a reminder of the cause of every painful event, of the loss and suffering imposed by that fateful encounter. The day will pass. The effects never will.

Poetry Therapy

Here is a poem/song that I wrote to help deal with the effects of narcissistic abuse. The Muse insisted I share.

Never Be the Same

I sit helpless as more of me dies
A little more each day because of her lies
How long until there is nothing left?
I’ve become a victim, a wanton act of theft
Nothing but a pawn in her twisted game
I’ve passed beyond hope and will never be the same

Never be the same
No, I’ll never be the same
Trapped here in the dark
With things that have no name

I sit here staring as my eyes fill with tears
All those many scars, all those wasted years
Once upon a time, I thought you might be the one,
Then you tore into me, nothing left when you were done
Now I never even want to hear your name
I have passed beyond reason and will never be the same

Never be the same
No, I’ll never be the same
Trapped here in the dark
With things that have no name

Never be the same,
No, I’ll never be the same
You tore my heart apart
You’re the only one to blame

How many times did I fall victim to your schemes?
How many times did I sacrifice my dreams?
You left me bleeding and my heart is full of pain
I have passed beyond sadness and will never be the same

Never be the same
No, I’ll never be the same
Trapped here in the dark
And you’re the one to blame

I’ll never be the same
No, I’ll never be the same
Oh, no no no
Never be the same

There are some wounds that are difficult to heal. When I wrote this, I realized there were some things that could never be right again. Healing changes us, and sometimes, the scars are deep.

~Namaste