This week on “Tales from a Roving Mind” I’ll be talking about fear, and giving a general progress report.

It’s time for the next installment of “Tales From a Roving Mind”. This week it’s all about expectations. Or to be more blunt, what you expect to write and what you end up with instead.

When I first started this blog I planned on using it as a way to talk about a myriad of things. Whatever my mind was occupied with would become fodder for it. Hence the name Roving Mind. Since I came back I've focused mainly on Scooby-Doo (those reviews will be resuming soon) and wrestling. It's time I branch out again. So today I will be talking about a story I'm working on.

FamiKamen Rider

A few months ago I did a post on Justin "JewWario" Carmical. If you want to refresh you member click here. One thing I didn't mention at the time was that Justin had created his own Kamen Rider in FamiKamen Rider. If you are unaware of what a Kamen Rider is you can read this post and learn a little about Japanese Tokusatsu. Last night I visited Justin's site and learned that he had plans for an eleven part series about the FamiKamen Rider. You can read about it here. I am telling you this because Justin needs our help. He has started a IndieGoGo drive to help fund the series. If you have any extra cash and want to help a man make his dream come true than please donate. If you can't, than do what I'm doing and spread the word.

Thank You.

Something Sunday.

A "Traditional Family". I suddenly have a craving for white bread.

I had planned to post short stories on Sundays. However I haven't gotten around to writing any new material. As such there have been no Sunday posts. Until now. This is the first "Something Sunday." I'll try to post something of interest on Sundays from now on. This first post about my experience with the "Traditional Family".

As you may know New York has recently passed a law allowing same sex marriage. Something I am all for. Some do not agree with me. Many have said that this would be the end of the "Traditional Family". When I was growing up in Spanish Harlem there was only one "Traditional Family". The Melendez family.I am going to take this opportunity to talk about them. If you are interested check after the jump for what I have to say. I'll even sweeten the pot a little. There is a video of a nontraditional family as well.

The Bus Riders.

As a New Yorker I spend a lot of time on the bus. Less now than when I was younger. When I was in high school I spent hours on the bus everyday. I never liked the train. It felt closed off. I like to be able to see where I am going.

Spending so much time on the bus I had a lot of opurtunities to people watch. I could be sitting very near to a person and never know anything about them. I could guess and surmise but nothing more. I thought about how I might get to know these people or have an effect on them. As a writer that is the ultimate goal.

That thought lead to this story. 

Enjoy.

The Tunnel!

I should preface this with a bit of info. Years ago I saw a special on the Discovery Channel. It was about pest in New York City. One of the people on the show was a super. The man made it his mission to fight the rats that were in and around his building. I liked that he had so much pride in his job. That show planted a seed in my mind. This story is that seed having grown.

This may not be the best short story ever written. In fact it probably isn't even the best I can or could write. But I am proud of it either way. There are probably a few grammatical and spelling errors. I am not that good at editing my work. Having said that I hope someone reads this and enjoys it. I would appreciate any comments, negative or positive. Thank You.

Something Different Yet Again

My third and last entry for the Bookmark contest.

The Bus

The bus means something to me. I identify with it. Maybe because I’ve spent so much time on it watching the city as I go by. Never focusing on any one thing to long. The bus drives home how big New York City is. How diverse the people in it are. On the bus I get to see snippets of life. In the winter I can see the homeless shiver in the cold. When it rains I see the business men who would normally wait for a cab.  In the summer I can hear the laughter of teenagers trying to beat the heat of the subway. Year round there are Hispanic and Asian nannies taking care of young white children. Other times I catch a whiff of perfume or shampoo from a woman passing me by. On bright days I feel the warmth of the sun through the windows. Sometimes I am assaulted by the unseemly acts of my fellow passengers. A young man cutting his nails a few feet away from me. An older woman eating left over spaghetti early in the morning. Or the time a man had a conversation with my hand. I see people with their noses in books and others with their thumbs on cell phones. I may see these things at other times but I only take note of them on the bus. Because when I’m on the bus I can’t escape from them and when I‘m on the bus I wouldn’t want to.

Something Different Again

The second Bookmark I wrote.

Things

There was a time when that building cast a shadow in the landscape of my mind. It haunted my dreams and never left me in peace. I spent so many of my days sitting at a desk in that building. One of many but I alone knew the truth. That building was evil. I could feel the energy flow through the rooms. It was dark and tainted with lost ambitions and failed hopes. The desks and chairs were normal. The windows were clear and the walls strong. There was nothing wrong with the building. Nothing at all, and yet it scared me. At times it still does, even though I have long since escaped its pull. It still makes me shiver. Things happened in that building. Things I once forgot but can never forget again. But what gets me. What makes me give it second looks, is that I am alone. To everyone else it is just a building. I have to wonder how many things in this world are evil? How many things have tormented a single person and left everyone else alone? How many times have I past something that made another cower? Think about that. About what frightens you and you alone. Think about your secret fears. Imagine all the people in the world and every fear hidden in the recesses of their minds. Think about that and wonder why these things have left you alone. Think about that and hope the things don’t change their minds.

Something Different

The following is a very short story I wrote for a contest. The idea was that the story would fit on a bookmark. I wrote three entries. This is the first.

The Block

I’ve lived on the same block all my life. I’ve seen the storefronts change and the people age. Races come and go. Italians, Puerto Ricans, Blacks and Mexicans have all lived on the block. So many things have changed. But the block remains the same. The sounds and scents change but the feeling is eternal. The feeling I get from the old woman walking with confidence or the children laughing with each other. There are still guys standing on the corner at night with one foot in the gutter and the other slipping. Even as the block becomes gentler there is still an undercurrent of danger. I see the changes and know the more things change the more they stay the same. The block is as it was. I would have it no other way. Some people don’t like that. They want to break the block’s spirit. They try to cripple it with high rents and disapproving looks. But the block is strong. The people are strong. They may not be the same ones who fought before. But they fight just the same. The men and women of the block change. But the important things stay the same. They still fight to lead a good life, fight to provide for their families, and fight to give their kids a chance at a home. There was a time when people came from small towns. But here and now, in this city, we come from blocks and it means just the same.