A Little Bit of Ink

As usual, I’ve been picking up and thumbing through the E. E. Cummings collection of poetry as usual, taking time and appreciation with it. Of course, a few of them give a metaphorical slap of inspiration, convincing the desire to write something. It’s important to keep in mind that we have our own voices, which should be embraced and worked with and on, and trying to take on another person’s voice or style doesn’t do any good.

A gentleman was met once, who had a unique accent, one of the many that can be found here in The States. He was asked of his origins with great consideration to how he spoke. He said that it was an accent he’d been working on for years. Being from upstate New York, he wanted to try something (completely) different, and the result yielded an accent that is so nonsensical. The pitchy one-step-below-Boston accent gave/gives a notion that he may break out into speaking Yiddish at any moment. He could have been a past circus announcer.


It is partial jealousy that my ability to colorfully write cannot compare to The Greats, those who have paved the way with literature, and we find ourselves here today with anticipation of joining the contemporary greats on that paving crew. There is doubt in a mind that prevents progression, which is resistance and procrastination and hesitation and any other negative word.

Yet, we writers — those who know that can write, those who want to write — keep going. It’s not about thinking, but doing. Because, most of the time, those who think they can write … well, they can’t.

This goes for the same people, who think they can write and publish a novel in one month. No. This is the difference between crap and quality.

Oh, Chris, it’s about writing the novel, not publishing it in a month’s time frame.

Oh, but it is. It should be. The point of writing a novel is to publish it. A novel isn’t fully written or complete when you have no one look at it aside your own eyes. It’s not edited two or three times? The novel’s parts are not reworked six or seven times? It doesn’t say much for the person, who writes a novel in a month’s time and does nothing with it except just to say.

“Oh, I have a novel written,” they say.

Inquiring minds ask, “Where is it?”

“Oh, it’s on my computer,” they reply.

“What are you to do with it?”

“Well …”


That great Muse pokes its head, her head in my case, in the room and over my shoulder to check on me from time to time, lighting a fire under my butt to get my hands and fingers moving. Sometimes she takes the form of an actual person, which is interesting. She only shows up for a split second, and she cannot be recognized in a line up.

Her help is especially encouraged when writing about a people, women in particular. The latter is difficult. When you do it right, there is significant reward for it. And she, the woman, whether you’re basing a character off of her or writing about her, love it.


In the recent past, I was blatantly hit on. With picking up on these instances of getting hit on, I’m more oblivious than anything else. Sure it was complimentary, but seeing someone at the time allowed me to keep my mature A-Game mentality on and resist the blatant slather of trying too hard. Imagine watermelon pieces flying at you during a Gallagher show, but you forgot to bring your protective plastic bag garb that day. The girl holding my interest was behind me, and she was talking to friends; despite my trying to get her attention without disrupting the conversation, I held my ground.


The rough-around-the-edges pursuer asked me what I wrote about, where I wrote, and what the chances are — after her inquiring mind found out that I wrote about life and pursuit of various things — that some random person I spoke to would find themselves captured in the words of a post, if she would be featured. She has her 15 seconds here, obviously. I told her it could most likely happen, equally for better and for worse. Should timing have it, her friend left at this point; so, at this moment, I turned around to see if my interest was available to talk to and easily let me segue out of there. Nope. My hand was kept by her, however, should she feel free to grab it at any moment.

When my attention focused on the passerby, I was fearful that she was going to pull out her B-Game (Bastard Game) to rope me in, so I pictured a shirtless Seth Rogan rubbing his nipples, standing in her place. Since I couldn’t find a gif of that, I came across this guy caressing his beard for emphasis. I’m sure the other girl got the picture when/if she saw where my interest lied later that evening.


It’s a touchy subject: writing about women. Women love it or hate it. The romantic women could feel adored, because they were included in even a sentence. Women, who have done wrong or acted rude, may regret what they were captured doing. Feminists may feel attacked if any of us male writers write something negatively; however, if we capture a negative aspect and write it truthfully as it happens, how could we be doing wrong? Feminists may also say that they don’t need us men writing romantically about them. The same thing would go for us men. If a guy screws up, and I see it — well, it’s fair game to be written about. Regardless if I know the person or not, I’m not going to include names.

But who doesn’t like to be praised? Who doesn’t want to be emulated through a character in a story or anonymous being in a poem? I don’t write offensively toward or about women, and I don’t plan to. The other woman from the scenario above was not attractive, in my opinion; even if she was, I wouldn’t have left my interest’s side. This new one, well, she’s a catch. I’m not that type of guy for tomfoolery, adultery. However, if I’m at a restaurant, let’s say, and a woman’s date going to the bathroom leads to her making sure the coast is clear, stepping away from the table to smooch the bartender … Well, Then what?

I love the human race, all of our flaws and our successes.


” — what does it all come down to?  love?  Love
if you like and i like,for the same reason that i
hate people and lean out this window is love,love
and the reason that i laugh and breath is oh love and the reason

that i do not fall into this street is love.”

– E. E. Cummings


(and she calls me out when i’m such a klutz, and i like that)

18 thoughts on “A Little Bit of Ink

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  2. In recognizing the interest you can at least deflect it. That’s good. And while I am a feminist and don’t ‘need’ a man to write something romantic about me (no danger there) I doubt many women would complain. Besides, we can all admit that some people are awful, male and female. People are the same all over.

    1. I would write about a male as well.

      Good! I’m glad you feel that way about not needing to be written about. You’re strong and confident.

      I don’t know if I would associate myself romantically with someone who demanded to be written about. That would be interesting. “Chris, write a poem about me.” Unfortunately, it does not work that way. It’s essentially the writer’s decision, who they find inspirational to write about.

      1. I’m sure you know that song “Love Song” by Sara Bareilles. But I have, in fact, had exes demand I write something sweet and romantic about them. It didn’t turn out well for them.

  3. Defuser: “Well, it was nice chatting with you, but I’d like to get back to my date now.”

    Simple, honest, no harm, no foul, as long as your date looks up and backs you up in the moment.

    Good piece, Chris.

  4. I think I was the friend of the lady you were not impressed with in this scenerio. Her goal was to be blatent, which generally works better for men than women. She is aggressive in her pursuit for male attention and is normally successful in her efforts. I wonder if it was more her boldness that turned you off than her appearance, since she is a really attractive girl. It is interesting, the rules of dating. If no one says anything, then opportunities are lost, so is it better to pursue an interest with full force or to not speak up at all.. I personally keep my interest to myself but sometimes admire her ability to go after what she wants.

    1. Regardless if she or anyone was attractive or not, falling in line and accepting being hit on and/or giving out my number is not appropriate when having a date at the event. That’s great for her, being often successful. I’m just not that type of guy, who boasts such prowess. I’m also not the kind who cheats, or who drops everything just because a new situation looks promising. I also don’t want to be “a number.”

      The post today (A-Game, B-Game) slightly touches on the haziness of what exactly an A-Game could be, how the definition evolves when you mature and grow older.

      And don’t get me started on my faults, which there are plenty of and have been written about in the years of this blog. It’s complimentary to be hit on, but — as the past holds to this day — I truthfully don’t find myself worthy. Relationships are few for me. I’m picky. I’ve had a difficult time opening up myself, and giving people a chance.

      Thanks for stopping by and commenting, Nicole.

    1. Ah, thanks! I’ll keep it coming, but the relationship dynamic has been in the process of a metamorphosis, so you’ll be hearing stories from the other side of the fence.

      Give some pets to Ted and New Cat for me.

  5. If you’ve read some of my blog posts you’re aware that I write about dates and men regularly enough. I tend to share “horror” stories for the purpose of (1) getting it out in the open, (2) prove to others – and likely myself – that I’m giving it a shot, and (3) to laugh and share. I don’t think it’s misanthropic of me. Likewise, I don’t think it’d be misogynistic for someone to write about women in any capacity as long as it doesn’t become a blanketed rant. So, write on. Glad you were on your A-game, though. Us women can be voracious bitches sometimes.

    1. Hey, Deb! Thanks for the comment.

      Oh, I am completely aware of the horror stories. Don’t you feel better letting them out? Each word is definite proof. It’s easier to acknowledge these “mishaps” when they are written out and reread.

      I’m still waiting on “hate mail” regarding this, because I like people to pick me apart as much as compliment. However, people seem to be nervous and reluctant to do either. However, I’m glad I have your support, because I know if I mistepped, (I’d hope) you’d call me out.

      Not to talk your ear off, but I’m planning on publishing a complimentary piece on this post, regarding A-Game and B-Game, how the concept of A-Game is misconstrued, associated with a negative connotation instead of a positive one.

      1. If my blog is any indication, one thing I do well is call people out. I’d absolutely call you out.

        Let me know when this A-game/B-game piece happens to be readable.

        How’s that hate mail coming? It has been one full day after all…

      2. No hate mail just yet. I’m tapping my pen, waiting for it; although, I do need to write up some invoices. Blah.

        I am going to aim for Friday for the A/B. I need to start producing more on here, failing currently with my own blog. Gah!

        Happy Tuesday!

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