Category Archives: Philosophy

Wordless Wednesday: Secret Places


Afternoon shroud


A great place to write.

The Last Unicorn


The very last printed copy of I Blew Up Juarez sold Friday night! 

Between Fugues

Indian Summer (orange filter)

Indian Summer (orange filter)

A handsome fellow, even in his late years. Either it was his age or an injury that kept him from standing straight, yet, he managed to get from his program seat quickly to the venue hallway where I stood. His eyes are bright and excitable, typical gaze of someone needing to share. I’ve learned in my public affairs years to allow the man his audience; at this age, if he doesn’t get it out, he may never have the chance.

“I knew it was the first Brian!” he offered, “I had a sense the moment you started.”

Thank you, my standard reception.

“Well done, good story.”

Thank you, my standard response.

“I’ve got a whole bunch of metal in my back from Vietnam.”

My heart swells with the distinct affection I have for the wounded warrior.

A watchful shadow angles in over my shoulder, reminding me of other affairs.

“You and I could speak on that for hours,” I share, “but I won’t keep you. Thank you, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

My standard sign off.

My escort leads me down the hall, out the doors, to my truck. On the pathway, I can exhale again.

The presentation at the Florida Bibliophile Society is my last for 2014. Fall season has arrived, and my mind is shifting from sunbathing to studying, I suppose the academic calendar is now permanently stitched into my subconscious. Fall means, hunker down, collect data, commence writing because Spring means organize and validate data, present a completed, legible work by end of Spring.

This year I managed to publish one of the fifteen novels I have written since retiring December 2011. I experienced the roller coaster ride that is production and publication, with that 4G twisty of getting screwed by business partners, but in the end I have decided it’s a ride worth experiencing again. Baby is in the book biz, and Baby is gonna deliver!

This fall I’m going to prepare the continuing saga from I Blew Up Juarez, a collaborative effort between selected fans and the self, and if this business model works, I believe I could deliver a solid series within the next two years. A horror anthology featuring one of my short stories is due for release soon, I’ll update in a separate post with those details once I secure them. A political science dystopia I’ve been chomping at the bit to produce will come out of hiding. I desire to release this during the 2016 Election Season.

I’m also putting the brakes on this blog for a bit. I want to adjust it to distinguish short stories, stranger-than-fiction, and writing prompts from each other, plus add a gallery of favorite photos by season. So there will be takedowns and ups and request for reviews here and there; any feedback you have, hell, even the douchebag feedback you love to leave, feel free. It only enhances the blog experience!

Finally, I’ve recently discovered my aunt is dying. She’s the eldest on my mother’s side, and so, I’m going to spend time with my family in the coming weeks. My plan is to delve further into my origin story, and who but the elders of the clan would know them best? I, ever the skilled scribe, plan to document every story, so I might make room here to journal my progress. Expect a bunch of photos from the Pacific Ocean; I might pull a Where In The World Is Von Simeon? on you guys!

Only one life left. Making the most of it. :)


Over 300 Followers! You’re So Kind :)


Over the weekend, I jumped over the 300 mark for *authentic* followers! Must be doing/writing something right…THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!

Wordless Wednesday: Trust


Writing Prompt: Last Day On Earth


[NOTE: I joined a new writer's group! This group differs from the old one, in that these writers are eclectic in personality, diverse in style, and disciplined to work, which is what I prefer in a group setting. Our first meeting was fun. Here's one of the 12 minute writing prompts we did; enjoy!]

Concept: A meteor is about to strike our planet, decimation of our known civilization is certain! React to the news…

My fellow Americans, Armageddon is upon us. I will not speak to you as your President, but as your neighbor. I too am terrified, of what shall become of our homes, of the natural life, and of the art we cherish. And since I have the world’s attention right now for the next 11 minutes, I’d like to go ahead and share a few things. First, I need to apologize to Ms. Jackson. It was me, not Henry, who pushed Melissa off the monkey bars. I watched as Henry got swatted over and over, tears streaming down his red face, eyes of disbelief pleading to me to tell the truth. It has haunted me this entire life and I’m glad to relieve myself. Next…I confess…I looked down Sara’s shirt in Shop class all period long. She never caught me doing it, but I know I was a total sleezeball.

Alright, let’s forget the grade school stuff. This war currently in the Middle East? Well, it’s ongiong because I lost my shirt at the White House poker table! Yup, it was me, Dubya, Dicky Cheney, Donnie Rumsfeld, Metta World Peace, and Rhianna. Me against Donnie, chips high, and I lose, two sevens to his three 9s. I thought I had a good bluff, America! So yeah, you parents of soldiers battling out and losing lives over senseless interference? That’s all because of double 7s. Whew! This is therapeutic.

Okay, another one. Me, Putin and Cameron had an ultimate three way at Yves St Laurent’s former terrazzo in Marrakesh. We called it a ‘peace summit’ but really, it was all about gettin’ a piece of SOME ASS! Also, I tried LSD and I like it. I should’ve pushed for an increase in research funding because frankly, if we were all stoned right now, I think we’d be taking the end of the earth way way better.

In closing, I’m gonna roll a spliff and cheef in the Oval Office, because I’m the Chief of State, and the state I’m in merits cheefing. HA HA! This is why they got a guy to write my shit, oops, STUFF, oh hell, who the fuck cares about decorum! I’m gonna take off my clothes now…EVERYONE GET NAKED AND START FUCKING!!

President, out! <drops pen like a mic>

Original composition 9.7.14


Physically Fit And Mentally Shattered


Fun Fact: An hour prior to this photo, I endured a manic attack. This shit is real.

One leg in front of the other. One strides, the other pops, as I challenge myself around the block. Figure four times around will make a quarter mile, figure a quarter mile is all my busted knee and shattered ankle can stand. Inhale and exhale metering easy. Shoulders low, arms heart level, knees hitting at the 90 degree angle. This is also known as a battalion run.

Open up into a quasi-sprint rounding the corner towards Manatee Avenue, sweetly greeted by a plume of pungent kush. I already like this neighborhood. Push through and then out the sprint to curve onto Manatee. Ten months of bullshit and the Courier 12 point font hearing decision proclaims, “The claimant’s disability continues.” I feel my knees pick up to work out the frustration, this unnecessary bureaucratic ordeal weighing on me like I’ve put back on the 80 pounds I’ve lost cumulatively in the past three years. Frustration reverts to pleasant curiosity as I pass a white clapboard house swirling with the sexy scent of bacon. I slow to a plod and feel exceptionally carnivorous.

Just the other day, in the new shoe store along Central Ave, we were all complaining of the same health benefits issue. The shop owners, both Army, both retired and now in business selling Miami-style women’s clothes, are also struggling to maintain their disability benefits. Active duty, reservist, civilian personnel, anyone who tolerated asinine bureaucracy for the sake of public service, we’re all at the same level of irritation: we put in our time, we paid our taxes, we satisfied contracts. Now, when we’re ready to collect on our hard earned yet meager reserves, we’re forced to prove or substantiate or submit or fill out or visit a vortex of dumbfuckery.

With the help of rage, I’ve already completed three laps. Purge this hate outta my body! This is a staycation with The Boyfriend (still haven’t thought of a clever nickname for him; suggestions welcome!) and this bungalow is adorable. Our own pool and a green-friendly innkeeper. It’s our two month anniversary this weekend. Yeah, I’m becoming very gay and so far I don’t hate myself for it.

Slow to the soggy wood gate and push it open, clasp it shut behind. I follow the path around to the pool, and I collapse into a plank. Only 45 seconds this morning. Dammit I’m getting fat!

Immediately I’m reminded of this silly saying my Mom would say:

“el amor se engorda”

10 months and 4 years later, the battle for competency has come to an end. Perhaps I can enjoy life right now. I’d like to. After all, there’s a guy waiting for me inside, waiting for me to clear my head to make room for him.

Wordless Wednesday: Date Night


Wordless Wednesday: Poetry Night


See the girl with the ninja tattoo..?

RANT: What Makes A Woman Fap-able?

Courtesy: StyleBistro

Courtesy: StyleBistro

[NOTE: I am a retired information technology specialist. This rant is long overdue.]

This week’s biggest culture shock was The Fappening, and I’m not going to bother to route you to the specifics of the story. Just, once again, nudies have been made public via the zeroes and ones. It’s really nice to know that all the progress we’ve made in information and communication technologies have led us to a social state of constantly taking pictures of our junk and feeling the world needs to know about it.

I’ve done it. Shot a few pics of my fun box. Not in the, ‘ooh this is sexy’ sense, but more in the paranoid, ‘does this mean I have herpes??’ sense (and no, friends, I don’t.) I’ve also done it to confirm, albeit in pure disbelief, that not one, but TWO white hairs have occupied fun box region, which is why I go smooth now.

I present this to say, I’ve utilized the technology to resolve an issue in a real-time moment, but I’ve never thought, ‘hey, I need to send So-N-So this.’ So why is it so commonplace for people to share these kinds of pics, and then be completely disgusted that they’ve made their way to websites. Really?? The issue is the violation? No, fucktard, the issue is you’re so self-absorbed you felt the need to hit SEND to a very unreliable person. That, or you’re just fuckin’ lazy. You want someone to be impressed with your naked body? Get up, go over to their place and show it to ‘em, Bible-style.

It was a hack job, Von. Yeah, yeah, but don’t blame The Cloud. Again, blame the fucktard who sent his or her ‘sensitive, personal photos’ across the firewire. It’s a shared lane, people; anything you put out there in zero and one form can be accessed. Screw passwords and encryption; remember, humans designed them, humans can deconstruct them. NOTHING IS IMPENETRABLE. You really should stop blissfully relying on sites and services to protect your data. In fact, try to spend some time reading the EULA or Terms Of Use before registering your avatar. Don’t want to read through all the fine print? Then don’t complain about your ‘sensitive, personal’ shit being accessed. Most of the time, you’re already signing over your rights.

And don’t forget, ya’ll…there’s the good ol’ NSA. The Metadatabaters can bypass any wails of violation you may throw at them. No one’s on your side, baby, so stop bitching.

Don’t want it out there? Don’t hit SEND.

That rant being over, lemme go ahead and reiterate the title: what makes a girl fap-able? In studying my site traffic and analytics, I have found that, during the early morning hours in America, a certain pic of me tends to show up in search engine results. The specifics are defined as “encrypted search results.” Well, doing some further digging, the popular search engine term for that particular pic is “hot wifey”. How the hell does that lead you fappers to ME?!?

Now here’s the debacle…a talented artist like myself, an amateur photographer, who happens to be a woman, likes to post pictures of herself in action quite regularly (and deftly I feel) right here on The intent of the site is to celebrate my -ness; my creativeness, my wildness, my antipatheticness. However, during the early morning hours in Brazil, a certain pic of me tends to get hits. Same in Belgium. Same in South Africa. Not the same picture, mind you, which I guess would be a compliment if I was trying to solicit compliments from night fappers! But still…this site wasn’t designed for you to jack off to. I’m contemplating adding a warning message to my main header: There Be No Fapping Here.

It is the zeroes and ones, and if I upload then hit Publish, the probability of being fapped to increases as I continue to provide photos in my blog posts. I want the attention to my artistry, not my genitals, but, I suppose I have no choice but to sigh and quote The Stiffler:




“Whack away, Jim. Whack away.”



Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 461 other followers

%d bloggers like this: