The Broken Sparrow Magazine- June, 2007
The Broken Sparrow Debut Edition<
Novel
All of the dolphin people had exited the lobby and were already in the pool by the time we got to the front desk. There was only a young couple ahead of us, but the adjoining dining room, which was separated by a wall of glass and an open door, looked to be almost full. The sound of people crunching on something permeated the air. To a soul– man, woman and child, everyone was completely naked; their noses were crimped with clothes pins and all of their toenails were painted purple. The entrance door from the lobby was open. Fran-Fran and Kim didn't seem to notice, but I sure did. That being the case, I decided not to say anything, at least not right away, and focused instead on what everyone in the dining room was having for lunch. It was a buffet affair, but from my vantage point I couldn't see everything that was being offered. I did a glance at a number a plates at the tables, and from what I could tell the favorites of the day were heated cockle shells, freshly dried cow chips, rotting rutabagas, uncooked carrots, and ballast gravel, with a choice of either iced salt water or a variety of flavored fizzy slurpees.
"...Can't wait till dinner!" I said to myself.
Gradually it occurred to me that the wait was becoming more protracted than I had expected, and I wondered what the hold up was. I could hear people talking, but it seemed extremely muted. Kim was standing behind Fran-Fran, and I was behind her, so I couldn't see a thing. I may as well have been standing behind an Abrahams M-1. Not wishing to appear conspicuous or impolite, I took a short step to the right and then to the left. But each time I did, Kim turned around to smile hungrily at me, impeding my view with her basketball breasts. Even if I had been able to circumnavigate her Spaldings, it wouldn't have helped, because the couple ahead of us was standing side by side and leaning over precipitously and straightening back up alternatively. It looked like something out of an old Ernie Kovacks rerun.
All of a sudden the couple at the desk stepped to one side and began to disrobe unabashedly.
When they did we stepped forward to be greeted by a four inch ashen-faced corpse, who was himself totally nude and holding a tiny megaphone in his hand. It was difficult to tell, but he couldn't have been under eighty. His being hispid didn't help; neither did the miniature barong that was wedged in his head– in point of fact, he looked like something out of the quaternary.
"...I bid you welcome to the Nose Pick, the class of the Mid-Atlantic!" he said, yelling into the megaphone.
Poetry
SHOULD IT BE SO
Should it be so that life is God to you,
and you are God to it.
Should it be so that you stand in Understanding
and not succumb to the degradation of hedonism.
Should it be so that the tears you raise are in Bliss,
and not in the sorrow of a requiem
that is the hallmark of those who will never know what it is.
Should it be so that see your Soul
in the eyes of your children
and in all the Beauty that surrounds you
and so naturally flows from within.
Should it be so that you are never lonely
and come to find that in solitude there in Purity;
that sometimes being alone
is not only plenty but necessary
to learn to know and Love yourself
at least as much as the company you keep.
Should it be so that the Truth inspires you
to do many great things, but mostly to have the Courage
to pursue it to its pious end.
Should it be so that you come to know
that time is linear but Life has depth:
that lines can lie, but can neither contain nor sufficient descirbe
the inexplicably simplicity of true Contentment.
Should it be so that you realize that Mind in all ways
take precedent over matter,
and that’s all that really matters ultimately.
Should it be so that you quickly grasp
that a life without Principals is empty in deed;
that the Music you make mirrors the Spirit
that sets up apart and makes you unique.
And should it be so that you will one day know
that I’ve always loved you as much as my being...
Should it be so, and so shall it be.
Essay
I MAY BE BIPOLAR, BUT I’M DEFINITELY NOT CRAZY…
Whatever possesses a body to dream up a name for the title of anything? The answer is as varied as the number of souls who are still respiring blue-faced on this planet’s variegated greenhouse gases. (As an inveterate smoker I find that notion somewhat amusing…”Ugh!”, you gasp, the myth of another author’s supposed perfection irretrievably dashed. Well, for all you folks who do not know, there are three fingers pointing back when you point the one at a lesser-than, and you may rest assured you will one day die of fat or drink or sex, or any other number of “personal preferences”.) Rather than slog needlessly through a long and tiresome list of suppositions, most of which the reader is perfectly capable of enumerating himself, I will simply cut to the chase and spell it out. First and foremost, one has to have the temerity to think that the something “whatever” is of some import, like the name of a child or a book title. Nolo contendere. Broken Sparrows And Wild Duct Tape came to me in two parts, both symbolic. (Yes, feminists. I used the masculine reflexive! So, pull up your big girl panties and either get over or used to it. I am doing the writing here, and there is a certain economy to it, which is why I also use contractions. A real bargain for those who are afflicted with word-counting fetishes!...I also coin words, if the spirit moves me– the more erudite reader will almost immediately realize this.) A sparrow is a nondescript ave of diminutive stature– no doubt; it is also, by virtue of it size, one of the frailer of fowls, and so evokes a certain sense of sympathy from some of the more empathetic of us higher-ups in the food chain. But before you pull out your hankies, let’s home in on the little fellow a bit further. Nature, with its indisputable genius for compensation, has also endowed the sparrow with a few weapons of its own. Few birds are quicker, as acrobatic, more intelligent, and none is as aggressive ounce for ounce. Who among us hasn’t glanced up in awe to see an enraged sparrow literally flying circles and doing cartwheels around a besieged crow, or a hawk or an eagle? Winged carrion devotees and taloned assassins appear to be and are indeed feckless under the onslaught of such a fearless aerial gymnast on a mission. So, while the sparrow has its niche in the scheme of things– be it ever to humble, it is also endowed and designed for maximum survivability. That said, a sparrow with a broken wing is, pardon the expression, a horse of quite another color. No amount of celerity, maneuverability, guile, or blind courage can offset misfortunate on such a scale. A sparrow with a broken wing is truly a hapless cripple and very much knee-deep in the last of its hourglass sand. Now, this would be yours truly. And this would also be the reader, to one extent or another, as well as everyone else who has ever lived or is still alive. No one, says the bard, escapes the “slings and arrows”, not one of us. Rightly said. Hence, we have the first part of the title and hopefully your empathy, please?...You will, in return, hopefully reap some benefit from what follows as delineated in my own unique and inimitable perspective, if I may indulge in such a presumption. But we are not finished yet. The title of this exposition has another half, as yet to be explained. Being reared by parents who were the product of the Great Depression, certain of their values were naturally ingrained in me. Too many to mention (and all good at least in intention), the operative ones I am concerned with here have bourgeois, noble-sounding names like “self-reliance”, “independence”, “honesty”, “integrity”, “work ethic”, and so on. Examined more closely, as before, I could just as easily include more patchwork clichés, such as “truth”, “justice”, “apple pie” and “the American way”– and why not throw “Superman” into the mix?– because, you see, I am a crippled sparrow, who has tried most of his life to “mend” himself with little more than duct tape, and the result, while stupendous at least on one level, has, by and large, been anything but an unqualified success. Translation: where you and probably the vast majority of my fellow countrymen see goodness and light, I, on the other hand, see little more than unadulterated heap of fetid horseshit. Do I have your attention yet?... Now, before you leap “great bounds with the greatest of ease” to render any perfunctory judgments about what is to follow, as we of so little patience Americans are wont to do in the hustle and bustle and over-compartmentalization of our O, so important little lives, allow me to inform you that what I am challenging you to read will be nothing resembling the nonsensical bombast of a politico. Quite the contrary. While Plato my have said that everything we do is “political”, it does not follow that what a person does is so intended, and the essays herein most assuredly are not; though, as you should by now suspect, I will not hesitate to position myself as I see fit and let the chips fall where they may. Second translation: I take no prisoners. (What else is an “essay”, anyway? And who the hell said Plato was right?) Inside these covers you will find anything and everything from the absurd to the profound. So, you heavy-hitting intellectuals may be assured of having some “meat” on your plate; the rest of us “unfortunates” will just have to settle for an abundance of contemporary humor and razor-sharp satire, interspersed with a healthy dose of admittedly mindless commentary. (Pity you? Pity me!...I have to write this crap!) For those of you who require the distinction of regarding yourselves as “mature adults”, I humbly beg your consent to submit to the succeeding, or at least try. This is not cheap television, so your remotes will be of no use to you for the duration of this “flight”. (“Whew!” some of you may exclaim, “…At least he doesn’t intend to feel me up in the name of national security!” In that same vein, others of you may well feel some small measure of disappointment at not being subjected to a thorough “pat-down”…Go figure. It takes all kinds of driver’s to fill the freeways.) It is instead something I meekly regard as becoming a rarity in this or any other culture nowadays: a book worth reading. And, like any other book you may find that doesn’t quite measure up to what it is “cracked up” (in deference to my more liberal audience) to be, you will still have the option of putting it down and walking away. You could have fared much worse by frittering away two hours and twenty bucks watching a B-rated movie. Finally, a word or two about the title of my introductory remarks: I like it– a lot. Keep reading. More will be revealed, I promise.
Article
THE STATE OF INDIFFERENCE
There’s a friend of mine, a very close friend, whose lamentable plight has recently come to my attention. He is, in fact, yet another victim of the appalling hypocrisy of the state of TEXAS. I use the word “state” loosely here, comically at best, sarcastically in fact. In so many ways the natives of this “territory occupied by one of the constituent administrative districts of a nation” like to think of themselves as “different”, special, better than. Terms like “most-est”, “biggest” and “best” come to mind, as well they should, having been ingrained, if not inured, in the minds of all its (almost exclusively white/Caucasian) aboriginal children since they wore knee-highs and were shuttled off to kindergarten by their largely “transplanted” parents, who ride modern-day horses (gas-guzzling ATV’s and Suburbans) they park in gated communities– their “forts” and “outposts”, which is by no means a stretch in the romanticized minds of the “boot-scootin’, line-dancin’ automatons coming off the assembly lines, like something out of Detroit or Pittsburg, or, more locally, the parking lot of the Mrs. Baird’s bakery in Fort Worth, Texas. This little gem of “uniqueness” was doubtless born in a smoke-filled room on an upper floor of a high-dollar advertising agency in Manhattan. (Most Texans are laughingly and accurately regarded as generally ignorant, compared to their sister states. And they are. Any and all doubters are cordially invited to see where Texas ranks in the latest governmental statistics on education, for instance, to cite but one of its “swept under the rug” tourista demographics.) While it is fair to say that “big money” does apply in any freely-associated description of this “territory”, it is just as fair to say that originality doesn’t in the main. It cannot, however, be dismissed out of hand entirely, for the “Great Nation of Texas” does indeed have its uniquely original, albeit decidedly callous, aspects. “Why, hell ya!” a goodly number of regularly redistricted and recently reelected state legislators would proudly declare. “Anyone who thinks he can ‘mess’ with Texas has got another think comin’. We’ll hang ‘em high and out to dry on the nearest tallest tree or highest flagpole we can find, as a “friendly” warning to anyone else who tries to f*** with us!” (These would predominantly be the “fat cats”, who have no qualms about admitting being in bed with historically, and deeply-entrenched lobbies that can almost “gar-un-tee” their reelection to the same, if not a higher, office.)The two favorite “sports” of these dye-in-the-wool idiots are “pro-se-cuting” justice and being “politically” correct– the time-honored, tried and true pabulum formula/requirement for “gittin’” elected to any political post, from the local dog-catcher to the Napoleon Bonaparte governor’s mansion. In this state these sports have names: expediting executions and prosecuting “dead-beat” dads (Catchy, no?...Thanks again, New York.) What red-blooded, God-fearing, patriotic citizen could possibly object to this? (It is a meaty “talking-point”, is it not?) It’s the “right” thing do, correct? It’s a popular, superficially moral, and exceedingly safe political position to take that requires almost no substantiation or even an intellect to do so, on those rare occasions when some “bleeding-heart” liberal actually dares to object or question it, and a sure-fire way to prime the artfully misguided populace to stuff the “right” ballot box in the general election.How does this “friend” of mine figure into this equation (root word being “equal”, as in “equality”)? As regards the former of this “politically organized body of people under a single government’s”, dualistic primary purpose, (a far more apt description of what Texas actually is, as opposed to the previously quoted definition), it doesn’t, in fact apply to him. While it could be alleged he has committed a “heinous and dastardly crime” (that would be capital in Tex-speak), he is not incarcerated on death row awaiting a last and blissfully life-ending intravenous cocktail. (Certainly the state would be forced to concede tacitly, if not openly agree, he has, judging by the retributive action it has taken in his case.) His only involvement here would to be wish he were there, in lieu of the crueler and even more inhumane “punishment” that has been inconsiderably and summarily doled out to him. So, if my friend if not on death row, but has nonetheless committed a despicable crime, then, within the confines of this script, we are left to presume he is a dead-beat dad. Correct? Or is he? Well, let’s see. (The “operative” word here being presumably.)In order to see if the shoe actually fits, let’s first define what a “dead-beat” dad is. In the common parlance of the term, a dead-beat dad is generally someone understood to have had the means to provide support for his children but has chosen instead to indulge himself; hence, the morally denunciatory connotation of “reprehensive”. There are such “critters”– men of ample, often staggering, means with which to easily provide the minimum amount of required support and well beyond, who have (irresponsibly, selfishly, decadently even) seen to their own needs, either primarily or exclusively. True enough and unfortunately, there is no shortage of men (including women) who fit this bill. And there are those who may appear to on the face of it to fit it as well, but who by no means even come remotely close to it. They are few in numbers, but they do exist. My friend is one of them.On this score my friend has been victimized– not once, but twice, by the state of Texas, specifically through the auspices of the Attorney General’s Office. In other states the AG may have some actual credibility, some actual accreditation, as a bona fide neutral arm of the state’s executive branch, whose primary function is to objectively enforce the laws on the books. That is not the case in this “state”, however. Hardly so. In this state the AG is a bullying, heartless incarnation of the IRS (with the same nonexistent checks and balances, and the same bloated, pompous functionaries) and the ideal platform/stepping stone for any gubernatorial wannabe– the perfect soap box, in fact, for anyone desirous of using its tax-supported pulpit for espousing the theme of “moral justice” to serve his/her own political, self-aggrandizing aspirations. (Sound familiar?) So, what exactly is the “state” of affairs in Texas that should make my friend’s case exceptional, when in fact is the rule of thumb? Specifically in his case, which is doubtless one of numerous examples, there are two “moral” infractions involved. (Three actually, if one takes into account the ethics of other states’ more enlightened jurisprudence.) To wit: Twenty years ago his former wife remarried and promptly left the state for greener pastures with her new husband, taking of course his daughter in tow. <a href="http://rdk.00server.com/index_1.html">Continued...</a>
Q&A and General Discussion
Q: I would be interested in knowing what people think about POD...Helen, Melbourne, Australia.
A: Obviously it would be preferable to get published by Random House or Knopf, or another major publisher. But for those just starting out we think Lulu is an excellent option. The good news is: it is a print on demand publishing hour that is entirely free!
Q: Does anybody know the name of a good domain registrar? I’m using a sub-domain now, but I’m sure it would be more professional to be able to do business and advertise with my own domain.
A: There are a number of reputable companies online that offer good, reasonable services. One of the better full-service outfits is GoDaddy . It offers a solid package that you can buy wholesale or pick and choose as it suits your needs.
Copyright © 2007 by Richard D. Kennedy. All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the author. Materials published in The Broken Sparrow magazine have been freely submitted by their authors for the expressed purpose being published herein and nowhere else without the consent of the author.
