Tears of a Clown

Tears of a ClownI published the novella “Tears of a Clown” this morning on Amazon. “Tears” used to be a horror screenplay; it still is, but I’ve since fleshed it out and turned it into a novella. I wrote this when I was in Hollywood. I think it was the 4th or 5th script I’d written. The story came together pretty quickly and the screenplay took 4 days to write. Of course, it’s went through several renditions over the years. I hope the book doesn’t give anyone nightmares.

Speaking of which – I had another one last night; not as bad as last week’s, but still annoying. It’s kinda funny I’d have them, given how long I’ve been homeless in the street. Anyway, it is what it is. I think it’ll be the last piece of fiction I’ll write for a while. I have a few ideas for my next book but I don’t know how feasible they are. Chances are I’ll eat my words and go back to fiction if I don’t accumulate enough material for the non-fiction material.

 

We Must Stop Killing Each Other Movement

black-people-white-womanThe We Must Stop Killing Each Other is a movement alive and well in Detroit, Baltimore and other cities. Their aim is to bring light to the fact that Brothers are killing each other like dogs in the street and it’s not being addressed because, well, that’s a promotion of peace and peace doesn’t sell newspapers. You know what they say, “If it bleeds, it leads.”

This is not going to happen in my lifetime: people waking up to the fact that there is no Us vs Them war, no Black vs White war in America. The media would have ignorant minds believe that myth so there will always be militants standing guard, militants at the forefront, maybe some of these militants will spray down the lobby of City Hall with slugs from an AR-15 and create fodder for the press.

It’s interesting how people allow themselves to be manipulated into thinking Black folks and White folks are not equal. Are their instances where prejudice and racism rears their ugly heads? Of course, but it’s not widespread like the media will have you believe. They cleverly spin their stories at the behest of responsible journalism in their sole attempt to make money. Nothing else. Black folks and white folks kill each other on the street, the media sweeps in and collects more advertising dollars.

So, will the media help spread love, compassion, tolerance and non-violence by giving press to movements like ‘We Must Stop Killing Each Other’? Not a chance.

http://www.wemuststopkillingeachothernow.com/

https://www.facebook.com/WeMustStopKillingEachOther/

Now, THIS Protest I Support 100%

School closing protestI will support a peaceful protest for schools.

I will support a peaceful protest for jobs.

I will support a peaceful protest for housing.

I will support a peaceful protest for laying down your arms.

I will support a peaceful protest for getting drugs out of a neighborhood.

I will support a peaceful protest for community centers, Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs, etc.

I will support a peaceful protest for creating parks.

I will support a peaceful protest for getting kids in sleepaway camps for free.

I will support a peaceful protest for fathers to take care of their kids.

I will support a peaceful protest for brothers to stop shooting brothers in the street.

But if you want me to support a disruptive protest that is violent at times, that may also call for the execution of certain individuals, put it out your mind. Ain’t gonna happen.

“Violence begets violence; hate begets hate; and toughness begets a greater toughness. It is all a descending spiral, and the end is destruction — for everybody. Along the way of life, someone must have enough sense and morality to cut off the chain of hate.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Most Painful Nightmare Ever

crabsLast night I had the most painful nightmare ever. I was one of nine crew members of a space ship, sort of like the one in Alien. I’m strolling through this room, just minding my business, when this…thing…jumped from the ceiling and right onto me. I’d say it was about the size of a house cat. The difference is this thing was white, had about four or six spindly, articulated legs (I couldn’t tell the number because the alien creature moved so fast), had a hard outer layer like a crab or lobster, and had jagged spikes all over its body like a horny toad. When it landed on my arm it immediately started skuttling around, all around, my arm. And it hurt like hell. Extreme hell. The ends of the legs were tapered to a sharp, painful point and, although you couldn’t see it, the underside of its body, the part that rubbed against you, had the most painful acid known to man.

Anyway, there I am, screaming in extreme agony, racing down a dark hall while the alien just skuttles around my body. Obviously, the combination of the legs and acid was so excruciating it’s like I would have dived into an active volcano just to be free of the thing. The thing was fast and had a strong grip, too. While running, trying to pry it off my right arm, if I was successful, it simply grabbed my left arm and started running around that. Somewhere along the way, it made itself invisible. So, now, I was agonizingly busy trying to pull an alien off my body which I couldn’t see.

Up ahead of me and to the right, there’s was a square tube which leads to the floor below. The inside of the tube was red. I dived through it…and the pain was gone by the time I exited it. There were six crew members in that space the size of a classroom. All watching TV, they were attired in the same way – navy blue jump suit with white boots and a white square the size of a record album on the back of their suits. The corners of the square was round, like an old-fashioned TV.

I yelled to them that a dangerous alien thing was running around. No one paid attention to me so I left the room and strolled into the adjoining kitchen. (I purposefully said ‘strolled’ because that was unusual for what I had just been through. In reality, I would’ve raced into the kitchen, waving my arms, screaming like a banshee).

There two crew members in the kitchen standing around the electric range looking at two! of those spindly alien creatures. “Get rid of those things,” I screamed, but my fellow crew said, “Are you kidding? These things are cute). I was like, suit yourself, and went back into the TV room.

While there I yelled to the kitchen crew, “Get rid of those things!” again, but I guess they just ignored my warning. Seconds later, they both started screaming like a burning safe fell on their feet. This startled the complacent others who jumped up to protect themselves. I yelled to them, “Grab something red! It can’t stand red! (The creature also can’t stand bleach; I seemed to know that but don’t remember the incident I saw which illustrated that).

The kitchen crew came racing, screaming, into the TV room, trying their level best to get those damned things, back to being invisible, off them. I grabbed a circular platter with a red face off a center table and held it out to shield myself from those things. It failed. One of the creatures leaped to my right arm. Once again, I was in unbearably agonizing pain trying to get this speedy, invisible monster.

I zipped into the another room, a bedroom, and jumped up on the bed and flew into the corner, all the while still trying to pull this thing off me. And of course, when I did manage to pull it off one arm, it simply started scuttling around the other, then around my waist, and so on. Unbelievable agonizing pain from the acid and the spikes.

Naturally, this crazy nightmare jarred me awake in my car at around 4AM. This is what precipitated this grotesque mashup of the science fiction/horror movies Alien and Moon:

  1. I was awakened around 2AM by a big, red, noisy truck pulling up right behind my car. Then I heard the men from the truck exit their vehicle. Seconds later I heard one of them say, “Oh, he’s sleeping,” to which another added, “Ok, well, we’ll just see about it later,” or something like that. I didn’t bother sitting up but their conversation stayed on my mind. That made me nervous.
  2. I did sit up to take a leak around 2:30AM. Up ahead in the distance, there was a tall garbage can (with a white square just like my crew member’s suit, BTW) sitting in a hedge. Being half-asleep, and in the dark, the sight made it look like I was being watched by someone from the hedge. That made me nervous, too.
  3. While trying to sleep in the car, the occasional jogger or walker would come by; the sudden scraping of feet on the gravel outside my window made me jump a few times.
  4. I’ve been very disturbed by the actions of the Black Lives Matter movement. They want black people to be treated more fairly and rise up from the poverty but, to me, it seems misguided. If you go to school and work hard, you’ll make something of yourself, not me the guy slinging dope on the corner. I hear things from BLM such as, “Some black people don’t like school” or “The system is keeping us down” or “The police target and kill us more than white people.” Well, for one thing, “liking” school is a statement that should never be in play. School should be mandatory, no ifs, ands or buts. 100% of all kids in school, no exception. The second thing is, what is the system? Are schools free? Yes? Is there welfare? Yes. Any openings in the military? Yes. Free job training, free computer training, free vocational assistance from government entities? You bet. Subsidized housing? Absolutely; admittedly, housing is an issue. I should know, of course. But it is there, just not as efficient as it should be, though. But still…the police target us more than white people. Well, last year, the police killed 250 white people and 125 black people. Our total numbers are smaller, therefore our death rate is higher, but am I to believe a lot of these black guys who were killed by the police were on their way to church or their place of employment and dressed respectably like a grown man should? Could me, but I hardly doubt that. If that does happen, then yes, profiling sucks and needs to stop. I, for one, am too scared to give the police lip. If they yell, “Get on the floor!” I’ll be on my chest so fast you’d think my legs just disappeared. Protesting is good, and necessary. Cutting off bridges, getting into people’s faces, grabbing the mic from public speakers, and turning vigils into political arenas may not be the best way. And, of course, let’s be honest – way more black guys die at the hands of other black guys. Surely their lives must matter, too? Where is the protest on the bridge about that? I’d sure love to see a protest for more or better schools, a protest to force the government to build parks and community centers in blighted neighborhoods, a protest to stop alcohol deliveries and drugs into the neighborhood. Brother Michael said it best: “The Man in the Mirror, that’s where the change begins, baby.”

I knew exactly what happed last night. My amygdala, or as you’ll remember what I call it – Lizard Boy – was in overdrive, DEFCON 5. It was telling me to wave up and flee. Since LB couldn’t activate my muscles, the next best thing was to stir the memory recall parts of the brain and twist the scenario to drive me crazy. As it turns out, those memory parts, the hippocampus, the cingulate gyrus, the thalamus, the hypothalamus, and the epithalamus are all LB’s neighbors in the limbic system. Anyway, this nightmare is going to rock my entire day and I will be remembering it the rest of my life. Thanks, LB. You sure know how to warn a guy.

I Published a New Book This Week.

Stranded jpegIt’s called Stranded in Paradise. I’d initially written Stranded about 10-12 years ago in Hollywood. Back then it was a screenplay. When I left Hollywood I converted it to a novella but just let it sit around growing dust on my hard drive. Since I’ve been on a publishing roll lately, I figured I’d dust off Stranded, edit it a bit, and throw it on the internet. Cool. So now I have four books on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/Stranded-Paradise-Novella-Robin-Ray-ebook/dp/B01I65JP3I/ref=sr_1_9?ie=UTF8&qid=1468258803&sr=8-9&keywords=stranded+in+paradise

 

Caution: Terrorists In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

tarishi23Whenever terrorists (sorry, they’re not freedom fighters) strike somewhere, like in Dhaka, Bangladesh yesterday, a part of me gets sucked out because of the tragedy. I think being an “international” type of person makes me feel the anguish deeply. By international, I mean I can relate to the recent ambush at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando because most of the dead were gay and some were also African-American. It also hurts that a lot of the dead were also Puerto Ricans because their men are some of the hottest in the world. I’ve been with a few myself. In Dhaka, one of the dead was beautiful 19 year old student Tarishi Jain from India. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was a Jain as quite a few Jains have that surname.

Today should’ve been a day of celebration for me because I published my new book, You Can’t Sleep Here: A Clown Guide to Surviving Homelessness, today on Amazon. Here’s the link. https://www.amazon.com/You-Cant-Sleep-Here-Homelessness-ebook/dp/B01HUKCDO8/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1467509819&sr=8-3&keywords=you+can%27t+sleep+here#nav-subnav

You Can't Sleep jpg

The governments of the world really have to put a stop to these extremist, radical ISIS soldiers; the faster, the better.