4/13/2011

An Exacting Dinner

Because of  my involvement with the Marketing Summit 2011 tomorrow in Greensboro, NC, I had the privilege of dinning with Jeffery Rohrs of Exact Target this evening.

Based on our conversation about Subscribers, Fans and Followers, I'm excited about his key note presentation tomorrow. I hope you can attend.

You may remember that the folks at Exact Target brought us one of the most viral info-graphics around last year.


Back Yard Burger Discounts...Revealed



Over the last month, I've eaten at the local Back Yard Burger 3-4 times. I've been waited on by the same, polite young man, and each time I've notice that he ended my transaction by swiping a card through the reader. He would then hit a few keys and a 10% discount would be applied. I kept thinking he had made a mistake or they were running some kind of special - then last night it hit me.

He's giving me a senior citizen's discount.

Maybe I'll shave the beard...or just claim proudly Old Guys Rule!

4/11/2011

Real Men Don't - Really

In 1985, at a time when society was struggling with gender based issues and books like "Why Men Are The Way They Are" and "The Hazards of Being Male" were attempting to lead men (and women) in another direction - I wrote the following story.

“The Land of The Nams and The Nims”

Once, long ago, in a far away land there lived an odd group of people. They lived much the way we do, eating, sleeping, playing and such things, but in this land there where two types of people, the Nams and the Nims. Oddly enough, the only difference between the Nams and the Nims was a simple steel plate.

You see, when a new child was born, it was decided if that child would be a Nam or a Nim. The Nams were the rulers. They made all of the important decisions, did all of the hard work and were served by the Nims. Both the Nams and the Nims where born exactly alike, small hands, round hairless faces, big brown eyes and most importantly, with a small hole in their chest, right over there heart. It was a dangerous hole, because, as every Nam knew, if anyone touched your heart, you would surely die. Thus, those that were picked to be Nams had a steel plate fixed to their bones over their heart hole. This made it safe for them to rule, of course,”

“On one day, a young Nam named Ned was following the instruction of his teacher. ‘Remember, Ned,’ he said with a strong huffy voice, ‘Your job will be very important and you must always remember to hold your head high and work hard.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ the young Nam replied. As they walked down the hall, two young Nims passed them and quickly entered a room off the hallway, laughing as they went. “What are they doing in there,” Ned asked? “Just silly Nim stuff, cooking, cleaning… Don’t worry about,” grunted the teacher. At that moment another Nam ran up, “Master Teacher,” the young Nam excitedly announced, “there is trouble in the outer garden! A dragon I believe!” Well, before Ned knew what happened, the teacher and the messenger had left Ned there, standing alone in the hall. “Figures,” Ned thought, “I miss everything.” Ned turned to head back down the hall to the small room he kept, when Ned passed the door the young Nims had entered and heard them laughing again. Then Ned had a thought, a clever little thought. “I bet I can find out what they are doing,” Ned reasoned. Without another thought, Ned ran down the hall to the boiler room and slipped inside. Making sure no one had followed; Ned closed the door, and grabbing a chair, the young Nam climb up and into an air ventilation pipe. Ned knew the way, and soon had crawled into the pipe directly back to the Nim room and was peering down the vent at them. Teacher was right, they were cleaning, washing dishes, and stacking towels, and all the while, they would laugh and giggle with each other. Ned was a little disappointed, but figured that The Master was right. Nims were silly and less interesting than Nams. “It was good to be a Nam. It is good to rule,” Ned thought, and touched the plate over Ned's chest proudly and started to slowly crawl back down the pipe. Then Ned heard a scream come from the room below. Ned looked quickly. One of the small Nims had been hurt. It looked like a tray had fallen and hit its head, cutting the Nim's face. The small Nim knelt to the floor and cried. Then Ned saw the most peculiar thing. The older Nims moved close  and gathered around  in a circle. One by one, they reached out to the Nim and, to Ned's disbelief, touched the Nim's heart hole. Ned gasped. “They are going to kill...” Ned's mind raced, “What should I do?” But, the little Nim did not die. Instead, as each one touched the heart hole heart, the Nim began to feel better. The young Nim stopped crying, stopped bleeding and soon they were all laughing and singing again.

Ned looked down at the steel plate that separated the heart from all others, and wondered...

4/06/2011

I Need More Pressure!



A couple of years ago, I took a creative writing class. One of the techniques we discussed was the idea of scheduling  time to write everyday. The idea is that just as the sculpture needs a block of raw stone from which to create, the writer needs a block of raw words from which to create and develop their craft. I've practiced this technique off and on and have seen it work. Another way to 'see' this is to think of those regular pieces of writing as drops into a pool. Before we can swim we need to fill the tank.

Lately, when I sit to write I often experience something best described as emptiness...a lack of words and ideas. Reflecting on this I wonder this: I often tweet and write status updates when I am struck by a creative thought or idea that I think is worth sharing. Once it is shared, I tend to move on to the next thought. So, I wonder, does the instant sharing of nuggets of creative writing via Social Media rob the the creative mind of the inspirational pressure of accumulated ideas? Do we keep our vessel empty?

Have you ever experienced this?

4/04/2011

Her Single Tear Traced a Trail

Before she quickly brushed it aside, her single tear drop traced a trail - like a silver scalpel slicing so quickly through flesh that the very bone is revealed before blood begins to rush through the wound - such was this tear - a momentary revealing that she cared too much, that her need was too great and that her hope for recognition, salvation actually, would not come. Not tonight.

4/02/2011

The Sea of Me


Swirling foam tickles my ankles
Toes wiggle in the archaic sands
Minnows dart, carving symbols in the tidal plane

Rising sun heats my bare back
Gulls sing anthems to the dawn
Waves rise in the distance, announcing the coming change

Rolling waves, closer, building
Fleeing tides ripping sand and shell away
Sand escapes beneath my feet

Impact 

Salt burns membranes
Water cascades away from sprawled limbs
I have been caught unaware, startled by familiar currents

Laughter swells within the sea 
of me

NOTE: If this one seems familiar, it is one I've been working on for a while and have revised...

4/01/2011

Done. I Quit.



After careful consideration, following the reading of The Shallows, by Nicholas Carr, I'm quiting.

No more Social Media. No more blogging. No more Facebook. If you really know me, you can use my phone number to contact me. I'm still going to use email, but I'll be changing much of that behavior, as well. We can be 'social' over a cup of coffee - or not.

I need my self back. Please follow this post to my blog and comment if you want to know more.

Bye.