Featured, Thorn's Blog
Priming the pimp–OOPS! PUMP!
Sep
Ahhh…Literati
How I have missed you and how I hope the feeling is mutual.
I have just gotten my computer out of customs and am now on line once again, here in Moscow, after being awol since mid June. In spite of a lot of support from many well intended patrons Oceanside was a consummate failure, though the Towers that are A Word with You Press deflected the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune for three years.
If it crushed my spirit, it was only as grapes are crushed in the process of making a palatable whine–oops!–WINE! My last four months in Oceanside were populated with events such as a stone through the window, being beaten up by a motorcycle doper, having an attendee of our writer’s groups actually take money from the collection jar rather than contributing, and graffiti sprayed over my back door with the gratuitous swastika and the imaginative words “You will die, fag!” (the author clearly in need of my editorial services.)
Years ago I worked the oil patch in Borneo and befriended Bruce and Lisa while living in Singapore.. We ended up as neighbors in Hawaii, where Bruce got a job as a telescope operator on Manakea on the Big Island. With funding cuts Bruce lost his job just when baby # one was due. I was making a few bucks at the time, and was able to give Bruce a five hundred dollar handshake before Katie was born. Bruce and Lisa did not forget. As Vesuvius started smoldering for the last days of Pompeii (aka Oceanside) there was an envelope in the mail that contained…yup…$500. And a suggestion that I lick my wounds in Moscow and plan my next move. Karma is kuhl!
So I arrived in Moscow on June 26th, the day before my birthday. On June 27th I got the day job that will allow me to support all the activities of A Word with You Press. I am plying my old trade (no, not that one) and have been employed in a European cabinet shop and that income assures that I can sustain this website indefinitely, without having to search for money to keep the doors open. We now have a permanent address, and I am persuaded that all I could not accomplish in Oceanside I can accomplish here, in a university town. By the way, I had great pleasure in duping many of you into thinking I was in the other Moscow. I was Putin you on! This Moscow is in the pan-handle of Idaho.
I take extreme pleasure in seeing everyone’s talents grow as a result of participating in our contests. I cannot live without the sense of connectedness that this site provides. The business of A Word with You Press is publishing and editing, and promoting the work of our clients. The pleasure of A Word with You Press is about loving all of you who stop by for a visit.
I would especially like to thank Gary Clark, Diana Diehl, and Derek Thompson and Billy Holder for helping me tread water while I got this back on line…and of course, all of you who provide such wonderful content and camaraderie.
A new contest is soon to commence. In order to remain viable, I can no longer do it all for free. Excluding all other expenses, a contest costs me generally about a hundred dollars for a trophy and mailing. But fear not. If you have entered a contest prior to today, there will never be a charge for you to enter. But for new people coming on board, I will assess a fee of five or ten bucks to enter a contest, but after they have entered three contests, they will be considered part of the family and can enter with no fee, except in extraordinary circumstances, such as a heavily monied prize.
I am priming the pump with this post. Piano tuning. I expect to announce the next contest soon, with a trophy and a substantial cash prize. This is so that we can draw in more people to our site, so that we have more people providing not only new writing but also feedback.
Give me a day or two to clean up our website, delete superfluous stuff, and I will announce the prompt for our next contest, which will be The Peggy Dobbs Annual Write-of-Passage Scholarship. Details soon to follow.
Blessings, as Peggy would say. I am not alone in missing her.
Thorn
editor-in-(mis)chief
Putting Gravitas on a lo-carb Diet
Thorn….. it has been a long haul since I have written anything worth a shit…. but thank you for reminding me that I can find an outlet in doing so in Oside…. This town will not be the same. Good misfortune good sir and take no wooden nickels from no one.
Dave Sherwood.
Hello Dave
Sharpen you pencil (or clip your nails if you use a word processor). A new contest is germinating and as soon as I am inspired by exactly the right prompt.I will let you know.
So THAT’S where you are! What it is about Idaho? I have two friends and a niece there now. Is this the new cultural, video, and literary mecca of the continent? I’ll have to come check it out. But first, let’s redefine “failure.” Three years of successfully deflecting the slings and arrows of misfortune is success. It just took an unfortunate downturn that you wisely interpreted as a sign to find a new home for AWwYP. I do want to know, did the miscreants who tagged headquarters REALLY employ a comma correctly?
I love the title for the new contest. It brings a little tear to my eye and a catch to my breath.
My objection to the writing was that they could have avoided cliche’. I really could have helped them with that. Instead of “You will die, Fag” could they not have penned. “Your demise is imminent, eccentric defender of alternative life styles.”
Maybe it was a comment about hair (and believe me I’m in no position to comment on that score). Perhaps they MEANT to say, “You will dye, FAG (forest auburn glint).”
Some people can be quite outspoken about their grooming advice.
Well, if it’d a said, “We’re gonna kill you dead, rope sucker,” I’d of bet it was that idiot grandson of mine and his half-brained friend.
A rope sucker is often upbraided over the coarse of time.
Are you sure you’re not just stringing me along or feeding me a line?
Yup, you had me going there comrade. First (and last time) I was ever in Idaho was we were bidding the on remains of MPC in Nampa, Idaho. I hope you find there what was missing here (see – you should have never been that close to Wisconson Street).
Wow, sorry to hear about your multiple misfortunes in Oceanside! I look forward to many more great feats from AWwYP!
Somebody threw me into the briar patch. Oh, darn!
Potato chips, borschet both taste like bear to a computer locked up in campus gulag. But then again bear never saw blue football field to take bath on, cause that would be washing a ton with the Bronco Boy-ses handing off their balls to scrub with.
I have no idea what all those references are about, but I do get Boy-ses and blue balls out of it!
Translation comrades: Potato = Idaho, Borschet = Beets Russian style. Bear = Russian symbol of power. Gulag = prison in Siberia. Blue football field = Boise State. Washing a ton= Washington which right across the border from Thorm hello. Broncos are the name of the Boise State football team. Balls can mean a lot of different types, but I was trying to be dirty here. Scrub = the sacrifical are never going to play in a real game, but get pounded volunteers for teams to practice with. There.
Hail to the editor-in-chief. We knew you weren’t Russian out on us, And the show Moscow on. Welcome to your new home and your old family.
I could sure use a pair a stroika right about now.
Are you sure the Moscovites or Moscobites are opening their arms willingly to you???? Well at least they haven’t bitten your pointers off!!! Glad to see you back on line Chief Thornite. Be safe – be well – take your pick!!!!
Hi Thorn—–Idaho is much more exotic than that other Moscow…..unfortunately, winter is colder in Idaho than that other Moscow tam bien…..But the beauty in Idaho at this time of year is worth it. You should be missing the beach come December, however. That is if being in your 60’s and winter mix for you as it does for me. (mid editing that last part for me?) Anyway, good to hear from you and maybe I will swing up to Idaho one of these days for a visit. Bryan Stuppy
Honestly, I have not had a bad day here. Nothing will change that. I won’t let it!
My dear palsy walsy… in the forest of your absence, I am stuck with BILLY, who pales in comparison to your punderful self… though I love him dearly in other ways (SHUT UP NASTY). I may have to go visit you some time in 2015. We shall see. In the interim, I can feel your glow from here… your GLOW. Sheesh… what am I going to do with you?
Of course, I knew where your mind was going the whole time, so what does that say about me… God, Mama and I love me… everything else is a bonus… (STOP IT).
I love the new contest name. It makes me smile for a friend I made but never (in person) met. You are amongst the blessed if you were able to give her a hug or two. Matter of fact, hug yourself now (sicko)…
You are most certainly missed here comrade.
I have a glow worm. It’sa bigger’n Billy’s.
In true Thorny-style… love you man.
Yours glows cause thats the only way you can find it LOL
…………………………………………RUNNNNN! HE’S CRAZY!
’bout damn time!
your grandson ‘cused me of embezzlement. All I ever embezzled was discarded virtues of extremely loose women. They won’t miss it. But I do miss your grandson. Hope he stops playin with Bob”s bobbles and starts payin serious attention to the work at hand which is to make this website last the full eight seconds like it’s supposta!
Thorn Sullykov, at last you have reappeared from the ashes of the past few months! We were worried, not for your life but for ours. How would we live without AWWYP? Your absence behind the Iron Curtain (or perhaps the Silk Curtain?) has been felt by us all. We tried so hard to track you down but without success. One of us called Lenin square and nearly got Stalinized before noon. Then we gave Trotsky a trot for his money but he ended up sucking on the automatic pacifier and three loud shots he was what the Mexicans called “vamoosed” and nobody misses him, but you, dear Sullykov, we wave the red flag — I mean red, white, and blue Old Glory to your safe return. Please do not allow the Russian winter to dissuade you from returning home. They got the same snowflakes there as we have here in the U.S.A. (only they’re poison if you let them fall on your tongue.
I have often been accused of being a flake. Ain’t snow buddy’s bizness but my own.
you mean… “if I do…”
Thorn Sullykov… that’s hilarious!
Hilarious? Tiffany, I’ll have you know the name Sullykov dates back to early years before the ascendancy of the czars (or was it the tsars??). Noble blood without question. Have you never heard of Boris Sullykov, the master painter whose work “Moscow Bells” hangs in the basement of the old Bolsevik Building on the corner of Vladimir and First? Or his grandfather Viktor Sullykov who alone was allowed to polish the boots of the first Cossack general Leonid Adimeskey? No, the honored name Sullykov is not to be skoffed at or sullied or guffawed at, okay?
Gravitas on a low carb diet equals random hilarities like Thorn Sullykov… it’s par for the course!