Richard Norway

As a 'rebutal' (debate thing), I guess I do like Nifty for one reason. There are some awesone stories there, albeit few. I turn off on stories that have very graphic sex on page one. Those are just JO stories. Now maybe my impression of Nifty, as it was 15 years ago when I first discovered it, has changed. I'll admit that. I guess I want to read about the human condition. I'm gay and I want to know how other people have dealt with it...what I had done wrong. The best of Nifty is actually great! I'm happy that I found it, at least most of the stories have 'story.' As far as Debate goes, I guess I was intregued with the bedate angle. I admire people who think, and this story, although with not too much on detail, was intreguing to me...people thinking!!! I guess I'm saying that it's not a great story, but what appealled to me was that the characters didn't always react, they thought. Stories have different appeals to each of us, and each one of has a different paridyme. This one got to me. And there's nothing wrong in giving people hope that there doesn't have to be pain in there lives for just living it. I love happy endings. Richard

Look guys, I think you're going off the deep end here. This is all speculation. Our fears of the unknown seemed to have brought us to "hate what we don't know." Does this sound familiar??? We're all acting like that sterotype jock in high school. I want to give it a chance, because the benefits are enormous. But...I too am leary of what is told in the media.. Let's just find out what this is all about first, and then come to conclusions. I'm no expert, and i want to hear what they have to say...not cossip. Richard

I liked this Jason. It clearly shows the trepidation, that self doubt we all feel when in love...'does he still love me?' I love happy endings too, but felt that fear that it wasn't going to happen. This poem truly had my blood rushing until I realized it's fantacy. Richard

I just read a story from the Best of Nifty. I usually don't like them, but to be honest, this got to me.. It's called My Debate Partner by Joel Young. Many of you may have read this already. I don't know, but maybe you should re-read it. This happens in real life. Richard

Well, it's official now. Senator Joe Biden will be the next Vice President. http://www.barackobama.com/index.php

Something similar happened in Albuquerque, New Mexico. A commercial photographer refused to photograph a wedding between two lesbians on religeous grounds, and so stated in an e-mail. The Human Rights Commission of New Mexico ruled against the photographer. Read the whole story. http://george.loper.org/~george/trends/2008/Apr/909.html Richard Norway

Thank you for that poem. I lived it, saw it, felt it. And then you tore my heart out. We all dream, and I'm sure we've all had dreams just like that. I know I have. Thank you for that. Richard Norway

Well, I guess it does play out as a scene, because that's exactly what it is. And...yes there is a story fermenting. I played with the points of view from two obviously different personalities to see which one I wanted to tell the story. In other words I was just f***ing off one afternoon while thinking of this new story. It was fun to do. I think I like the POV from the scattled teenager, because I can have that character change and progress the most. Anyway, that little scene is just part of chapter 1 to set up my characters. So Bruin...ah...take your rattle and... Richard

As seen by his best friend, Mark Mark wasn?t sure if he wanted to find another stop along the bus?s route or if he and John should try walking the distance again. I?ve taken this bus to school with John for the last 2 years now, and he?s not one of the most timely people that I know, he thought. Even still, he is my best friend. But, today he missed the bus again. Well, actually, we both missed it. I stayed behind to wait for him, so I guess you could say that I intentionally missed it?but not John. I actually heard him before I saw him round the corner at the drug store. He was taking off again at a sprint. His unleveled hair was reaching for the sky and then in an instant was lying flat again as he bounced with each stride. It was a sight to see, and?a sight I?ve seen before. As he picked up speed and was about to break a 100 yard dash Olympic record, the books he was carrying slipped from his grip and began dropping one by one, falling on the concrete sidewalk in a row behind him. I saw him try screeching to a halt, but his forward momentum fought back, not wanting to be redirected. His feet skidded across the concrete with a clatter as his arms waved wildly in the air in an effort to keep his balance. He swooped low, picking up each fallen book and replaced them under his arm, one by one. I could tell that he was really trying to hurry as he picked up the last book. As his fingers reached the fallen book, his body had already turned to resume his dash for the bus stop. I wonder why he tried. We both knew that the bus had already departed, so what was the point? He picked up his pace in his marathon toward the bus stop where I waited for him. I don?t know why John?s late for everything. He?s pretty bright, but for some reason, he just can?t get to anything on time. He?s been like this ever since I?ve known him. As he approached, he began to slow and the expression on his face told me that he knew that he had missed the bus. But I also knew that it was a little game that we played. He was showing me that he had made the effort and was trying not to be late, and I would not push the issue with him because I understood him. As he approached the empty bus stop, his mouth formed that ?Did I miss it?? smile. ?Yeah, John. You did.?

Here's how John sees it: "I'm not late. I still have plenty of time." John said as his consciousness slowly returned. The clock radio on the night table next to his bed was reporting the morning weather and traffic as he thought of his morning shower and how the warmth would wake him further. ?Okay, he said to himself. You'd better get moving. You're not going to be late this morning. From this point on John was on auto-pilot. Stepping into the shower, he could feel the first drops of water assaulting his skin, but in a moment, their therapeutic qualities took over. ?I still have plenty of time,?John kept thinking to himself. So, he decided to close his eyes and let the water's life giving radiant warmth envelope him. Finishing his shower, John stepped from the glass enclosure, grabbed a towel from the rack and began to dry himself. It was okay to stay in the shower for those extra minutes,?he thought. I have plenty of time, and I'm worth that little extra bit. As the towel did its duty of soaking up water from his back, he looked in the mirror at himself. The towel stopped moving as his attention drifted to his body and how well it had been filling out. He was 17 now and had lost that toothpick frame of only a few years ago. John let the towel fall to examine himself further. Arnold. You had better watch out. In a year or so, I'll be the one defeating terrorists and getting the girls instead of you, he laughed. He raised both his arms to flex his biceps in a perfect?"John L. Sullivan" pose. Just then John heard the clock radio announce the time. "Okay doofas. You'd better get going." he said to himself out loud. But he also knew that he had plenty of time. He wasn't going to be late this morning. Picking up his toothbrush, he began to brush his teeth in a frenzy. He looked more like a rabid raccoon. Don't forget to floss,?he told himself. ?You should floss every day, if you have the time, that is. But today is okay. I've got the time,? he thought. He looked closely at his chin in the fogged mirror. Yup. There it is,? he thought. His facial hair was starting to show each morning. He knew shaving took time, but he also knew that he needed the practice for when he had more than the soft fuzz that was emerging now. It was okay though. John knew that he had plenty of time to spare so he reached for the shaving cream canister. Getting dressed is a breeze,?he thought. Being a guy is so much easier than being a girl, because there are no decisions that need to be made.? Back in the bedroom, John grabbed his boxer shorts, T-shirt, white socks and jeans from his dresser in a few easy fluid series of motions. Man I'm efficient in the morning,?he kept thinking as he put each piece of clothing on. He smiled at himself. Just before he was about to retrieve his books from his desk, he checked the clock radio one last time to make sure that he still had plenty of time. ?"Oh my God."? he yelled. The time showing on the clock radio was the exact time that the bus was due to arrive at the bus stop. John reached out toward his desk, shoveled his books off the desktop and packed them under one arm as he then bolted from the room. A few strides later, John was out the front door. He leaped from the front porch to the sidewalk in one step and soon his sneakers were gripping the concrete to aid him in making the right turn to head for the drug store on the corner and the school bus stop. What happened?? he thought. I wasn't goofing off. I had plenty of time.? There was no school bus to be seen.

I have to agree. Words DO get in the way when I write. (Blue is now editing my first) I've reread some of my dialog, and it's obvious to me when I hear the undertones of Wagner that my dialog is ripe with double meanings, but when I'm listerning to Beethoven, my dialog is filled with angst. Lizt fills me with hope during his tone poems, but Copeland tears my heart out. My trouble is having the right inspiration to write the dialog that is appropriate for the story. I get into my characters, as I'm sure you all do, but I also feel that I don't get into their story without music behind me. I should be writing screenplays, because I SEE the action along with the music...or maybe a director...or maybe an idiot. I've tried to get into jass, but it comes across as incomplete. Maybe a better way of saying is that I feel angst in a lot of it. Having said that, you'll probably find it strange that one of my favorites is Dave Brubeck's Take Five I've been told that all writers have a muse...that someone that keeps the juices flowing. Mine is music, I guess, because when I hear music, I dream of scenes and people doing. Richard

I had seen the links to AD Radio many times and had just ignored them. I figured that it was just some commercial station promoting AD. But AD doesn't promote Coca Cola. Does It? So a couple of days ago I actually gave in to a little of my curiosity and did the big 'click.'? The Oldies and Country assaulted me. I clicked it off. No way! Why are these authors listening to this crap, I had to ask myself. This must be an insane group. But they can't be THAT insane, because I liked...really liked...what they wrote. Well, writers must be insane then. Shit! Does that make me insane? I had to think about that for a day. Yeah. I probably am insane. At least I wanted then to be insane, because I wanted to be a writer too. Okay, I decided to give AD Radio another try. What have I got to lose? My sanity? Hell, I gave that up a long time ago when I decided to do some writing. So, here we go. I did that fatal?'click' again. OMG. Peter and Paul and Mary came on. Damn, they were my favorite folk group back in the day. I turned up the volume. I was in heaven because you don't hear them any more on popular radio. Then, to my amazement, Neil Diamond was on. Shit! What's happening? OMG. I was now listening to The Clancy Brothers. I continued to listen for the entire afternoon. I worked at my job at being an engineer that day with this music filling my ears. I worked for hours, but never got tired. I just worked with this background. The next day, I still had to finish the project I was working on, but before I pulled up the AutoCad drawing that I was trying to complete, I 'clicked'?on AD Radio first. It seemed so natural. I guess I needed the focus that the music was giving me. I had finished the last structural detail for the Framing Plan that I had been working on for the new bank building in Las Cruces, NM. It was good to be finished with it, but then I realized that AD Radio was still playing. Why hadn't I noticed it? I thought about that. I thought about the music that was still playing. What was it about this particular music that now intrigued me so? I'm not a big fan of the lyrics to most music, concentrating mostly on the music itself. But lately, I've been listening to the words...the poetry. It IS poetry. It means something. It's trying to say something. It suddenly hit me like that fucking 2X6 timber right across my frontal lobe. Passion!! That's what it's all about. I heard love stories. I heard unrequited love stories. I heard death. I heard life. I heard Life! I heard passion! Damn. Damn. Damn. I knew instantly what this radio station is all about. It's what writers are all about. It's why i'm here. It's part of me now. The living that I hear, heralds who I am. It's me. It's truly who I am, passions, fears, regrets, joys...all of me. I still hate the Country, but that's my unwillingness to hear the passion in that yet. I know it's there, but baggage takes a while to put out in the trash. I'll still have a hard time putting away my classical music when I try to write, but AD Radio is there for me. Listen to it. You'll see.

I see him as Janet too...with wig. And lots of pictures of the guilty. Richard

It's sadly true what Des is saying...movies today have lost that theatrical form and that very few truly good movies are made today. Audiences do applaud much more today after a movie is finished, but that's about it. I don't believe Rocky's remake has anything to do with esthetics or art. It's all about the potential monitary gain by playing up to the fervor over the original. Directors do try to put their art into their productions, but they're hampered by the producer's budget being pushed on them. On another note. Colin, when you go see the remake. you've got to go in costume. You'll enjoy it much more that way, and...WE WANT PICTURES! Richard

I think that's why I like classical music the way I do. I get very emotionally involved with music, and most of the time the words are irrelevant to me. I see life and I hear the music behind it. Music can rip your heart out or build you up to the level of the Gods. To me it's a force to behold. But lately, I've started to listen to the words, the poetry accompanying the music...and my heart crumbles. I'm seeing and feeling more now. Even at my age, I continue to grow. Richard

Des: I don't speak a word of Italian, but that music has inspired me throughout my years. I'm not a big opera fan, but there a few solo pieces that I love to listen to.

He was quiet, and then he opened his mouth. Shit...Just listen.

Has anyone ever heard of him? His name is something that I would dread having in high school, but...and I mean BUT, (he works a telephone warehouse.) nothing in the world prepared me for what I heard. Something amazing happened. He enterered a talent contest in Great Britten You've got to listen to this. I know it's not about writing, but it IS about what we all feel. Richard

If you haven't quessed yet, the humor in me is in the absurtity of what I say. Richard

How the hell did Colin get 9/10, know so much about that ancient stuff? Most of that seemed like it was way before even MY grandfathers time I know...I know. He cheated! That must be, He had 28 of his friends all guessing for him. I got 6/10 :( Richard

You don't think his wrists could be limp, do you?

OMG. (Drooling!) I'm going to make that! Richard Norway

Suit? Suit? What do you mean? The first thing I obviously noticed were those cute things he has wrapped around his wrists. Okay, Okay. (pulls up a chair and starts eating popcorn watching the screen) ...three houra later... Be right back guys. I have to go to the bathroom. Richard

Am I whole? I see the grass, the trees. Am I whole? I see family and friends. Am I whole? I see anguish and doubts. Am I whole? I see a future filled with passion and greatness. Am I whole? I see life. Am I whole? I see you. Am I whole? Yes!

TR...don't correct my spelling. Please. I was too broken up when I wrote that, okay? Richard