Stubhub messed up. Sold me tickets for the Inter-Milan Derby and then didn’t send anything. After three weeks of emails and one hand-written letter later, I got this: And then I got this: Not sure what it all means.
Hi McPhedranbadside Team. It’s a pleasure to be in touch with you. I have observed your website is facing huddles in getting online visibility and traffic. To be honest, this situation is most foul and disturbing for all of us in virtual limbo. Mutually, we can overcome the major obstacles which you might be facing by bonding together with love and hope. The factors such as HTML errors, proper keyword alignment, unique contents, social media presence will be addressed as I do my parents on their deathbed. Let’s improve your Google rankings as well as your deep feeling of inadequacy and fix up an appointment with one of my certified servants for a free consultation that will cost you terribly in the end and ultimately achieve nothing.
I fell victim to the hype of Stranger Things (Duffer Brothers) which isn’t so much of an homage to the 1980s as a compilation of derivatives. Truth be known it is nothing more than bits of E.T. (Misfit kids on bikes) glued to Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Crazy parent who knows the truth), Poltergeist (Portal to monster world) and Minority Report (Innocent conduit in water). To say nothing of Little Shop of Horrors (Man-eating plant-faced monster) and Under the Skin (Pitch black other-world). The worse of all though would have to be setting it in Hawking, Indiana, a tip of the hat to the father of alternate universes? Can the eggs get any more rotten than this? (No.)
I titled my second trilogy All In, long before General Petraeus’ ballyhooed biography, Chris Hayes’ tedious MSN programming or the latest Marvel extravaganza. The first section begins on the Christmas Eve of 2001, a man teetering out of control following the loss of his brother on 9/11:
There’s just these bits of blackness, and that makes it hard to put everything together. I can see the building on fire and the back of the plane melt in, gone, just sucked in like that, like nothing, and the windows down and the glass and water and me. It is all wall and window, nothing below. I am coming up, all of it hard. I want it. This is what I want. I am in hard. I am not half folded. I am not waiting. I am not holding to anything.I am of this wall, and it all comes down on me, not small or big, not anything, all in my head arched back, my whole fucking body out in light, gone through me, gone through everything, high, released, out from her, not for anything, but hard. I don’t know how much I can really take of this. I’m stuck out. Yes, it’s a story, and, yes, he’s here with me, and this is it. I was going to call Robin, and then the phone rang. I wasn’t going to answer. “Hello?”The second section follows the daughter, the third section, the widow, as everyone drifts toward isolation until a Christmas dinner one year later.
When you are stuck Just park it And leave it So that you can get back to it When you can deal with it
Trilogy is not a four-letter word despite the plethora of modern-day abasements – The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and Spider/Iron/Super/Bat/X-Men. The format goes back to Ancient Greece where trilogies of plays were performed as the standard, including Sophocles The Oedipus Cycle and Aeschylus’ The Oresteia.
My work has little in common with the Greeks or Superheroes, and is more akin to Evelyn Waugh’s The Sword of Honour Trilogy – where there is no honor at all – and Francis Bacon’s harrowing triptychs. Yes, I dare to dream, and in three parts.