So, Tis An Author You Wish To Be

So, Tis An Author You Wish To Be

notes-514998__480

So, Tis An Author You Wish To Be!

So, tis an author

You wish to be!

And, why, I ask,

Do you come to me?

Because, I write so

Much, you say,

So many pretty lines

Throughout the day.

True, it is my passion;

It must be so for you.

                         Yet, with fervent zeal,                        

Words at times flow few,

Bringing fitful malaise,

Wasteful lingering doubt,

 A brain inactive and dull,

And depressing flameout.

I mean not to dampen

Your dream of writing

But there are few who

Will find it requiting.

Then, if you are like me

And write for the soul,

No matter the repulsive foe,

You have ultimate control.

©Billy Ray Chitwood – March 24, 2017

Please visit my Website, preview my 14 books, read some reviews and author comments:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow me at: https://twitter.com/brchitwood

 

 

 

 

A New Destiny

Washington DC Prepares For Presidential Inauguration

A New Destiny

     On Friday, January 20, 2017, the United States writes the first chapter in its new destiny – what should be the peaceful transition of National power, the swearing-in of a new president, Donald J. Trump.

    With this inauguration, America ushers in a new destiny with a man who defies all the odds to become our Commander-in-Chief. Donald Trump at this point in our history is a ubiquitous figure throughout the world, and people of different persuasions are busy weighing in with their appraising thoughts.

    Some in our Democracy believe, or, know, that, once in the White House, then President Trump will challenge the long-standing status quo and bring about changes that will damage the national and global profile of our great country, that he will bring changes to our entitlement programs that will harm the elderly, the poor, and the needy, that his total lack of political experience will bring chaos and a national deficit which will devastate our economy, that he is too brash and self-centered to have the high privilege of serving in this high office.  

    Some in our Democracy believe, or, know, that then President Trump is truly going to make ‘America Great Again’, altering our political landscape by eliminating stifling regulations, lowering taxes, growing jobs, getting immigration under control, building up our military, changing and/or localizing our education system, giving parents more possibilities for their children to better learn at the skill levels that fit and are important to them, helping the elderly and poor handle their health needs, introducing new health plans that are more affordable, and to halt the terrible tide of terrorism in all its forms.

    You can choose your side…some of you likely know where I land between the two above suggested scenarios, and that goes along with our Democracy’s freedom of expression.

    Personally, I would hope we could all embrace the time-honored tradition of a peaceful transition. After all, it is not the president we honor on inauguration so much as it is the process – a democracy changing its governance, dictated by the will of the people.

    Some people still wish to talk about the ‘popular vote’ being the best way for choosing a president in lieu of the ‘electoral college’.

    It is hard for me to remain silent on this issue. The states of New York, California, and Illinois will generally supply enough liberal votes to elect their preference under this system. What about the other states – the heartland, those people who work our fields for food, laborers who lay the brick and mortar for our buildings, the folks who would be forgotten in a ‘popular vote’ democracy…that would mean just a few states would decide our elections. I’m not saying the states mentioned who want the ‘popular vote system’ do not have these people. These states do have the ‘crop producers’ and ‘skilled laborers’, but, they are traditionally outnumbered by the liberal left. It just seems to me an unfair system when we make the votes of so many in other states meaningless.

    Okay, I’m just one voice speaking up for a peaceful transition of power on inauguration day… Tomorrow! You have your ‘free speech’ and ‘assembly’ rights. It is my fervent hope and prayer that all is peaceful on this day of our time-honored traditional transfer of power. That is what our great Democracy and Freedom is all about, what our founding fathers intended, and what so many of our brave patriots have fought and died in wars to protect.

Billy Ray Chitwood – January 19, 2017

    Please visit my Website and preview my 14 books, some book reviews, blogs, and author comments.

http://brchitwood.weebly.com

Please follow me on:

http://twitter.com/brchitwood

‘The Way We Were’ – Then and/or Now

cave-mycenae-2-00415

The Way We Were – Then or Now

 We awake in the cave, our minds blurred by realities of living.

 Moira goes deeper into the cave to bathe.

 Somehow, we have ended up here above the land we now see through the opening of the only home Moira and I have ever known. We eat certain vegetation, sweetly sour berries, and meat from the kills of our crude weapons. Over time we have developed a language that allows us to communicate with each other.

 Who are we? What are we? What is our purpose? Are we creations of some bewildering fate that allows us the awareness of thought? We can think and therefore we exist. There must be more than the hunt, the kill, the cave in which we live.

 What of this thing I hold in my hand, heavy and gouged by the passing of time? How is it I know to call it a rock? I throw the rock into the wall of the cave and it bounces here and there, finally landing not far from the great opening.

 Moira’s question breaks into my thoughts.

 “Why do you throw the rock, Meito?”

 Without looking at Moira, I fumble with the dirt and pebbles on the ground where I kneel, I respond. “I throw the rock because of my confusion and our way of living…the rock has thickness, weight, and no feelings. Why can’t we be like the rock?”

 Moira stands a few feet away from me. She has just come from the cleansing water pit deep in the cave, her long black hair wet and stringy. Her pretty face and deep brown eyes show innocence and purity. The meager animal skin she wears clings to her body and does little to hide the sensual fullness of her youth.

 “Because the rock has little function,” Moira answers. “Because the rock has no feeling, cannot hunt, kill, and show love. Meito, we have this same conversation so often. This is where we are and must accept our destiny. We have made our lives better than when we met some years ago, hopeless and lost in this wild mountainside. We will go on and trust in our love. I believe there is some spirit power that will guide us to where it is we are going.”

 As I stand, a smile appears on Moira’s face and her eyes sparkle with an unfathomable certainty. She sees my heavy brown beard part and show its own smile. I go to her, and we embrace.

 “You always lift me out of my depression. We will let life happen as it is destined to happen. The people we see hiding behind trees, fleeing from us – as we flee from them – maybe, one day, we can unite and get out of the caves… You are beautiful, sweet Moira, and your love is enough for me.”

 We soon leave the cave for our hunt.

 It is a beautiful day on the mountain.

 Flash Fiction by:

 Billy Ray Chitwood – January 1, 2017

 Please visit my Website:

http://brchitwood.weebly.com

Preview my 14 books, some reviews, some blogs, and some author comments.

 Please follow me on http://twitter.com/brchitwood

Reality and Truth

 

There Must Be A Better Way

amazing-animal-beautiful-beautifull

There Must Be A Better Way

 

Hey, Man, this is great stuff! Wow! The sky’s amazing! Look at all the colors… Awesome, dude! What’s this stuff we’re doing?” A teenager named Beasley was speaking.

 

Another teenager named Freeman spoke, “It’s sensimilla, bonehead, and those colors are natural colors this time of day. It’s not the sensimilla you’re feeling, and you just took your first two drags…after a few more drags you’ll be seeing those dark clouds swooping down on you. Depending on your tolerance level for sensimilla, you’ll be catatonic and unable to tell me your name.” Freeman chuckled.

 

What about you, all-knowing one? How’s your tolerance level?”

 

I know how to control it. You’re going after it like you’re trying to reach Nirvana in ten minutes. You have a surprise coming. You just don’t listen. I told you, take it easy with this stuff.”

 

Hey, this stuff is legalized now in several states…it can’t be so bad.”

 

I don’t know what the legalized states are using, but I seriously doubt it’s sensimilla…it’s heavy grass, and costly, man, but, what do I know?”

 

Two ‘joints’ were consumed within thirty minutes.

 

How you doing, Beasley?” Freeman glanced at his neophyte friend.

 

Beasley’s eyes were opening and closing, wanting to stay with the narcotic effect. He was in a limp and listless waste land. He heard the question from his recently met friend, but he could not bring himself to answer. He was without energy and the ability to think.

 

Beasley fell back on the upper fringe of the hill, waggled his head occasionally, but was essentially motionless and useless.

 

Freeman eyed the prone body of his friend, laughed, and muttered: “The dumb ass bonehead! Couldn’t take it.”

 

Ten minutes later, Freeman was ready to leave the lovely hill that overlooked the ocean. He steadily lifted himself from the ground and moved to the mumbling, twitching body of his friend.

 

Freeman nudged him with his foot. “Come on, Beasley, get up. We gotta go. My girlfriend’s waiting for me.” Freeman only received more mumbling and twitching from Beasley.

 

With much more force, mixed with a little anger, Freeman roughly shoved Beasley’s body with his right foot, and it began rolling down the steep angled side of the hill toward the ocean.

 

Freeman carefully took measured steps to stop the body’s roll, but he had no leverage on the hill. He would go down himself if he rushed his movements.

 

Freeman waited for Beasley’s body to stop its roll, but, instead, it picked up speed. It was like Beasley was somehow helping the steep hill to propel him down…like, he was, in his mind, on some fanciful flight.

 

Freeman did not go further down the hill. Instead, he turned toward a gravel road where his car was parked on the less steep and shorter side of the hill.

 

Freeman had a moment of worry but it passed quickly. The grass was doing a nice number on him, keeping him calm, cool, and collected. He would check on his friend tomorrow.

 

The roll down the hill likely worked off the sensimilla, and Beasley would be fine tomorrow.

 

***

 

Headline on the local newspaper’s front page the next day:

 

Body of Teenager found near beach at ‘Lone Tree Point’.

 

FLASH FICTION by:

 

Billy Ray Chitwood – December, 2016

 

SEE AND PREVIEW MY 14 BOOKS AT:

 

http://brchitwood.weebly.com

MY BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON US, UK, CANADA, AND THE WORLD.

 

Follow me on: twitter.com/brchitwood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Italy With Love

amalfi-1615517__480

From Italy With Love

I thought it was all over!

There were two problems. My single engine plane coughed, sputtered, and acted like it was out of gas – but the tank was filled just twenty minutes before at the air park in Genoa. The other problem was lack of control – without success, I tried to control the Aileron, that hinged surface in the trailing edge of an airplane wing which is used to control lateral balance…think of a seesaw, keeping it horizontally straight without either end dipping down.

Bottom line: big problem with the plane’s engine out and my inability to glide the plane accurately to a spot for landing.

I got lucky!

See the trees at the bottom of the picture above? Somehow, I managed to land the plane some ten feet to the right of those trees, with the right wing an inch or two from the sand and the nose about to plow into the ground. An abrupt action with the right wing somehow caused the plane to straighten its line and touched down roughly but then slowly moved to a stop with the friction of the sand.

No bruises, no cuts, no radio transmission, and no real damage…just some rattled nerves.

Actually, I sat there behind the stick for some seconds and felt pretty good – hey, I had a story to tell my film buddies back in Santa Monica. We were still young, chasing the ladies, and telling each other our tall stories. Because I looked a bit like Steve McQueen, my buddies gave me the nickname, ‘Cool Mac 2’.

I pulled the leather flight jacket from my near 200 pound, 6 foot frame, flung it over my right shoulder, grabbed my clothes bag from the cockpit, and started walking toward the buildings in the picture’s foreground. Only a few feet into my walk I saw an old jalopy heading toward me. My walk only lasted some three hundred yards before the jalopy stopped and a man and woman threw some Italian at me. Some I understood but the gist I did not.

The woman was beautiful, and the guy, well, he was handsome enough, I guess, but he was much older than the lady…for some obscure reason, I was wishing the duo was daughter and father.

Sorry, I speak very little Italian. Do you speak Enlish?”

Jes, we speak some Engleesh, but you just crash yur plane! Are you hokay?” Such a lovely voice to go with the face and body.

Yes, I’m fine. I got lucky. But I could use a phone and some assistance in reaching people who can help me. Would you…”

The older man stopped me in mid-sentence, “Get in the car. We will take you you to our home where there is phone and food.” His white whiskered face showed kindness and blended in with his white wavy hair. He instantly reminded me of Maurice Chevalier…you know, the French actor who sang ‘Thank Heaven for Leetle Gurls, for leetle gurls get bigger every day’.

Rosina was the lady’s name, and Pauli was the gentleman’s name. I immediately liked them and found them most cordial and friendly. It was particularly tough for me me to avoid glancing at Rosina. Her long dark hair went to the middle of her back, framed a beautifully tanned exotic face, and her bluish green eyes sparkled with flirty coyness. She was wearing a slightly loose tan dress, but, had it been tightly fitting, my heart might have leaped through my shirt. I had worked with some lovely ladies in films, and this Rosina beauty did not take a backseat to any of them.

Pauli asked me what I was doing flying a plane in Italy.

Well, Pauli, my girlfriend and I broke things off, and I was between jobs, never been to Italy and have always wanted to come and see it in person. I’ve been in love with your country ever since Clint Eastwood made those ‘Spaghetti Westerns’, well, actually, all my life. This was a good time for me to come… Oh, my name is Faron Brady. Flying is a hobby, and I just thought I would see some of your beautiful country…didn’t get much accomplished, I’m afraid.”

We talked, got well acquainted, and I felt we established a great bond. Pauli knew who to call to handle the plane and the rental company in Cortona.

When Pauli and Rosina found out I had no lodging in Cortona for the night, they insisted I be their guest, spend a few days, and tell them all about America. I had an idea Pauli was perhaps playing matchmaker for Rosina – without her necessarily knowing it.

After Rosina left the conversation to refresh herself before dinner, Pauli showed me to my bedroom. He announced wine and hors d’oeuvres would be served before dinner and that Madame Rosaria would be preparing dinner for serving at 7:00 PM… Madame Rosaria had been Pauli’s mistress and house manager since his wife died ten years prior. Out shopping, I would meet her later.

Suddenly, I was very tired. I took off my shoes and fell across the bed.

The nap came quickly, and I don’t know how long I slept. When I awoke, Rosina was standing in the doorway with the most seductive smile ever put on me. I raised to an elbow.

Is it near 5:00 PM?” I asked, trying very hard to return the seduction.

Jes, you must freshen up and have some wine, the best Italian cheese, and hors d’oeuvres. We await you, Signore Faron.” She turned and left the doorway ‘in a most delightful way’.

Freshened, I joined my hosts in the living room. Madame Rosaria was a lovely lady as well and not a lot older than Rosina. It was a little scary! Both seemed to be putting the moves on me. Now, of course, this was likely an Italian ‘thing’ and not meant to be interpreted in a romantic fashion. Certainly, Pauli was not at all concerned by the actions of the ladies.

We drank, we ate, we laughed, we traded cultural distinctions and idiosyncrasies. It was one of the best evenings I could remember ever having.

In the end, Pauli and Rosaria went to bed, leaving Rosina and me alone in the living room, slightly tipsy and now fully engaged in our sensual maneuvers.

Believe it or not, I don’t remember how I ended up in bed alone. I could remember being sure earlier that being in bed together was a foregone conclusion. A lesson was learned: our cultural distinctions were definitely there and frustrating as hell.

Three days later, Rosina and I decided to be married in Cortona, honeymoon on the Amalfi Coast, then return to California.

Hey, I’m still stunned by the turn of events, BUT I must add, I am one happy ‘Cool Mac 2’… Steve McQueen, we miss you, buddy!

I cannot imagine anything in my life from this point on topping my Italian visit… I do indeed love that country – and, Rosina.

Billy Ray Chitwood – December, 2016

See my 14 books on my Website:

http://www.brchitwood.weebly.com

Follow me on http://twitter.com/brchitwood – @brchitwood

https://thefinalcurtain1.wordpress.com (My blog site)