[I want to tell you of the story about how I met Luke, but he already did... in the form of a novel - so I won't tell you about that. what I will tell you is that Luke has a certain air about him that tells you he's already succeeding at whatever it is you think he'd be good at. and he's a nice boy. so read his book. and find yourself stuck inbetween the hell of going door-to-door selling paper, and, well, the hell of believing that it's about to make all your wildest dreams come true. well done, old friend. and thanks for the mention]

-

okay… as annoying as this has probably already become – what is the book about?

The book is about how a beach bum in San Diego became a door-to-door sales cult leader.

and at what point in this ‘career’ did you realize the absurd comedic value, even, book-worthy, of it?

The absurdity is evident on day one, of course- that’s the only way to describe barging into quiet offices and cracking horrible icebreakers. But the deeper into “the biz” you get, the more absurd it becomes, until one day you’re living with twelve strangers in a house with no furniture.

you might cover this in the book, but did you ever find yourself believing the promises of, well, all things promised? a team? riches? nice cars?

I thought I would be a millionaire by the time I was thirty- that I would own multiple houses, and expensive cars, and be able pay off my student loans. In retrospect I was a lethal combination of naivete and ambition.

what was the breaking point?

The breaking point was watching the snow fall through a window and feeling depressed, because it mean that people would quit the next day. Then I realized that I didn’t want to be the kind of person who was depressed watching the snow fall.

poetic. and symbolic. but c’mon – surely it was something said, something you witnessed that made you realize that this might not be all that was promised?

Yeah, that’s the melodramatic answer. It was a gradual decision, though, not one specific event. I saw plenty of problems in the biz, but the real problem was realizing that I didn’t want that lifestyle anymore.

take us back to your prime in ‘the biz’ – were you good? did you make any money, or, as the book echoes – ‘ring the bell’?

Hey, you saw me ring the bell, baby! But yeah, I was good. Killed it in the field, but gave away a ton of money to my team- I made about 25k as a rep. Of course, the real money was supposed to come in management, and there’s the rub. There is no red sports car waiting for you. I made about 55k the year I was nominated for Rookie Manager of the Year.

describe one of the more ludicrous experiences you had while working there.

I gave this guy  in the San Diego office a ride home, and it turned out he lived on a boat. We had some wine on the boat, then I had to drive through the gate of the marina to get out. The next day I went out and rang the bell. Of course.

it was my Uncle’s boat. and your destruction of the marina property got me kicked off. anyway – which is your favorite passage, line or chapter of the book?

My favorite chapter is probably the one that describes one business type after another in the field. I always thought a good book would be “tales from the field,” just interview everyone and put all their best stories together. You never know what you’ll find out there.

so, published author. what’s next? please tell us it still involves writing.

Next is writing scripts (feature length and shorts) and working on the Rapture Club site.

any backlash?

No real backlash to speak of, surprisingly. One person asked me to change her name. So far the only feedback I’ve gotten from everyone is “Yep, that’s what happened all right.”  But who knows, maybe no one has even read the thing yet.

how can people get the book?

Right now it’s only available as an e-book. Either barnesandnoble.com or smashwords.com.

-

do you love me? (I can really move)
do you love me? (I’m in the groove)
ah do you love? (do you love me)
now that I can dance (dance)

when I was no more than 10-years old, I had a crush on this girl named Summer. she had a sister named Pepper, which always amused me – even to this day. but Summer, man – she was something. she was everything her name came to recall – laughs and water sprinklers, ice cream trucks and the florescent lights of soccer games. and I loved her. seriously loved her. but did I ever tell her this? no – no I didn’t. but it was love nonetheless. every Wednesday night was ‘youth group’ for the kids I Sunday-schooled with and, while she didn’t attend the same church, she was friends with a girl named Amy who did and so, she would show up. every Wednesday. with Amy. she was nice to everyone and that included the skinny mess of a child who fumbled for random facts about G.I. Joes whenever they shared space. she had a nice smile and sometimes I convinced myself it was for me. maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. as the weeks past and I had no more action figure news to pass on to her, I began to feel like I needed to have something else. not to mention that Michael, my friend, had just come back from Texas and, being about the same height as me, posed a threat – what with his stories from lands-afar. he also had an impressive collection of Joe’s and was even rumored to be receiving the Holy Grail of all things Hasbro, the Hovercraft, for his up-coming birthday. I cannot impress upon you how amazing this piece of plastic marvel was – countless guns, hidden hatches and oh-my-gosh, it even floats. there was, simply, no way to compete with that. she’s hear my story, she’d see his hovercraft and there would go the Summer of 1986. something needed to change, to happen… but what would it be? what possibly could I produce to show her that I, not Michael, was the man she was meant to be with?

brother, I thought and I thought and I racked my brain to what could be done. it wasn’t easy, being a pastor’s kid, as we didn’t have a television and the snacks in our fridge were mere mimics of the entertainment not allowed to us. we didn’t have a pool and my grandpa’s mobile home parked illegally in the back erased all chance of a Slip-N-Slide.

things were not looking good for me. and by this time, Michael was probably taller.

the Iran-Contra Affair had nothing on my Summer of My Discontent.

and then, one night while watching my Dad offer his Kansas City Royal’s some pitching advice – it hit me.

I had no skills! and I had no accessories to show off those skills!  and after watching baseball with my Father, I knew exactly what it was I needed to do. I, Aric S. Queen, needed to become a catcher for the local baseball team!! see, catchers were cool, but in constant danger. they were able to sometimes bring the game to a halt and calmly walk up to the pitcher and have a rethink. they were respected. they were strong. they had amazing accessories… and they knew stuff. dirty stuff. they were the soldiers. the wiry pitcher with his clean pants, he was the pretty boy. the one who put a lot of work into his appearance. but the catcher, boy-oh-boy, he was dirty from the first pitch. people threw things at him. people ran into him.

he was a man.

and this was the man I needed to be.

this was who Summer would fall in love with.

as it would turn out, I didn’t even make the team. Summer would only show up a few more times to youth group after that anyway, most likely having heard the fucking Lutheran kids around the corner had Lawn Darts. even Michael, my frienemy, was so wrapped up into the fact that the Hovercraft had a moving fan [see photo. bottom left] he was of no support to my loss either.

basically, it sucked. but I left that Summer realizing I needed to know things … about things.

and it happened again this morning – 24 years later. as Nick and I sawed and cursed, glued and fitted, she came down to ask us if we wanted a cup of tea. we both did and she went to make it. I timed her footsteps coming back with the exact moment I put a random piece of wood on the saw-horse and begin cutting. I wanted her to see me doing something, I wanted her to walk away going ‘that man sure does know things’.  I worked a little bit harder down there so when I stole up to the lounge, telling Nick something about ‘looking for a pencil’, she’d smell the things that I knew on me.

it’s a funny thing, this love business – it takes you from a good summer, to a bad Summer, all in one warm slap. it makes you want to know things, and it makes you realize you don’t know many things. you want to impress, but by doing so, end up clumsily sawing the expensive piece that Nick had already cut and making a mess of things. it makes you look into the mirror and ask that person if they’re worth it and then seeing someone smiling behind him and then finding solace that at least they do.

things… about things – it’s a strange thing to get hung-up on, but in the years since that fateful pop-up fly ball nailed me right in the face and I ran home crying harder about the loss of Summer than my retina, I’ve come to find that there simply is nothing, nothing, more of a turn-on than impressing someone.

and man… do I wish England had a shop that sold American sporting equipment.

[note: some people think this is me, Aric, writing. it's not. it's Tara. don't think things like that - it'd be an insult to her gift. girl has a way of looking inside herself and seeing all of us. seriously]

An open letter to love:

It’s time we had a talk, quite honestly.  We need to discuss our relationship.  These are words that cause most hearts to seize up with terror, but I think you can handle it.  Someone once said you were kind, though I never quite believed that.  It was also suggested that you were patient.  Well, you might be, but if I am not, where does that leave me when we collide?

I know so many people who are afraid of you; who will do whatever they can to avoid having to deal with you.  I always felt sorry for people like that.  Stay on the sidelines, opt out, watch what other people get themselves into.  Go ahead.  See how much you learn about yourself that way.  How much do you expect to grow in a personal sense if you never put yourself out there in any meaningful way?

So I have always gone running after you.  The very thought of you thrilled me to the point of blind abandon.  I have a rather sharp mind, you know.  It often serves me well, though it sometimes causes more trouble than it ought.  My heart, on the other hand, is a fragile unknowable thing.  The very idea of this heart that I carry within me is enough to give me night sweats.  Thinking about the state of it feels like icy fingers at my throat.  It causes me so much panic when it aches, when it longs.  Its power is beyond my reasoning which is why I am so suspicious of its motives.

Oh, but you know this all too well, don’t you, love?  It’s also been widely suggested that you’re a bitch.  I would be lying if I said I hadn’t agreed with that sentiment in the past.

I’m not trying to give you a hard time, really.  I’ve always been a big fan of you, truth be told.  It’s just that I am the kind of person that calls a spade a spade and well, there are plenty of things about you that bother me.  If we are ever going to have an honest relationship, I think I have to air these out.

First of all, you’re fickle and it makes me crazy.  Seriously.  You have harnessed this power of randomness and you wield it with such little responsibility.  You give and you take away and sometimes, all of this happens before the stupid human has had time to process what the hell has happened.

And you know, I have given this particular trait of yours a lot of thought.  I have come up with a theory that helps me sleep a little better at night.  The idea is that there are as many varieties of love as there are people who will move through it in your lifetime.  There are some people who will occupy a space in your heart and have an affect on your life, but once that work is done, they will move on and leave you to sort through the wreckage.  That’s a life lesson that I think you are responsible for, love, and though I have often shaken an angry fist at you because of it, I wish to now make amends.  I get it now, so thank you.  I regret that there was so much carnage in my wake before I finally did, but what can be done of it now?

What I find most intolerable about you, though, is your grip.  I invite you in.  I admit that.  So why then do you treat me so abrasively?  Why then do you dash me against the rocks?  I come in peace, you know.  I do not want to abuse you.  I only want the benefits of you, same as anyone.  You are so bold and you scramble my brain and make me feel so very helpless.  I don’t do helpless well, thus I have begun to fear you, as I would anyone who put me in such a position.

We’ve had some really good times together, love, so please do not get it in your head that I don’t appreciate what we’ve had.  I also don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  It’s just that romantic as I am, I believe in you too much.  It makes me feel vulnerable.  I don’t do vulnerable well.

So, if I asked you to be patient, if I asked you to be kind, do you think you might consider it?  I’m much wearier than I once was.

Jason Collett – Love Is A Dirty Word

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it’s on, right? no, I don’t think so. it was for a second though, I saw that green light. no problem. reset. maybe it was the initial connection. wait – there we go. it’s on. you ever played this? me neither. I’ve never really had one – they were always too expensive. okay, let’s see: this is yours, and this is mine. I think we’re supposed to… no. hrm. to be honest, I’m not sure. it sounded simple enough on the box, but I don’t understand how to get the thing over the- wait. what did you just do? that’s bad. we need to reset it. don’t do that. let’s try this again, okay, we know this part, how to begin again – I think we have everything. and, well, from what I’ve heard we need to make the… thing, whatever that is, work. but you have to use your side to help me get it there. I really don’t know how though. you know Kenny? he’s my neighbor? no? oh. well, he said that this was pretty easy. I’m not getting that, even though everyone seems to have played it. have you ever talked to anyone who’d won? yeah? what’d they say? really? they said that? fuckers. they could at least give us a few tips. now the thing is… damn it. let’s reset it again. are you getting tired of this? I hope not – I think we could both be good at this. with some practice. it can’t be that hard, right? I mean – it’s a pretty simple concept. what’s that? I’m over-complicating it? I thought you were. I only did that because you did the other thing. it’s not my fault. it’s yours. reset. okay, crap – we can get through this entire first level with our eyes closed by now, can’t we? it’s boring me. I mean – not boring me, but it’s just a reminder we screwed-up there in the last game. want to switch sides? no? okay. what if we ask Kenny for a cheat code? all these games have them, right? la-le-li-lo-lu, right?  or was it up-down-ri.. never mind. those were the only one’s I remember, but I think it was for some other game though. are you sure you’re not tired of this? you look a little tired. promise? you sure? okay. please don’t stop playing yet, I think we’re about to get to the next level. man, there sure are a lot of those little guys for this to be the first level… did you put it on ‘easy’? no? maybe we should. wait… hang on… yes! we did it! first level complete. now the second – shit! do you se- fuck. I died. that one was my fault. the thing came out of nowhere and I freaked. sorry. reset. you okay? you don’t like this game anymore, do you? I’m worried you’re wondering why you even sat down to play it in the first place. are you still sitting here for me? or for you? you don’t have to be nice and hang out if you don’t want to. gosh, it sure did look fun on the commercial, I wasn’t lying when I called you about it. I suppose it was the box, right? all the wonderful colors! the excitement!! I kept hearing it’s a good one though – can’t be sure of that myself, but others seem to like it. let’s play one more time, okay? I’ll keep an eye out for the monsters. you stay behind me, just in case I start firing. I don’t want you to get shot at again like I did earlier, they take points off for that.

one last time?

yeah? you sure?

ok.

reset.

I have a favorite walk in London. I’ve done it many times. I think it’s my favorite because it takes about 3 hours, and it’s all free. here are a few highlights – they’re all here. you’ll probably recognize most of them, save for the third: that’s Robert Frank’s contact sheet for ‘The Americans’. I’ve visited it now 4 times in less than 2 years. it’s amazing. you should go. it’s also free. enjoy your walk. [hint: it begins at Waterloo].

I went walking today after she left, tummy.

right into the middle of it all.

I usually don’t like the middle of it all,

but today, well, I needed to.

is it strange to say I’m so fallen I needed to see the beautiful people?

I did.

I went out walking to find the beautiful people.

it’s scary, falling.

it’s disturbing, when you openly refuse to reach out and grab something on the way.

maybe I want to go down.

maybe falling is what needs to happen.

maybe the landing is what needs to happen.

one-two-three and four

it was good to see them, the beautiful people

the beautiful girls

they reminded me that I’ll be okay – that we’ll be okay, tummy.

eventually.

they reminded me that there’s always more

always another.

we’re decent, aren’t we tummy? strong-sevens at least.

five-six-seven

fuck you, timing

I don’t know why this happened

and I don’t know why other things happened

and a few times, sure, I tried to talk myself out of it.

I might have told her why…

I’m sure I did.

it’s something new each week.

I’m very good at that.

eight and nine

all of this

all of the how’s??

will shortly turn into why’s???

I know you’re hurting already, tummy.

me too.

and

I don’t like it.

ten-eleven-twe… okay, ten and eleven

she offered me some peanut butter and banana toast this morning

I had to say ‘no’

because you hurt, didn’t you tummy.

you’re counting down

down to the day when it’s too big for you.

and then you’ll push it out above.

to heart

and to throat

and I don’t like it one bit.

so I need the beautiful people to remind me

twelve.

there.

I found twelve – eleven plus one.

a dozen.

that was just in a few hours.

see, there are lots of beautiful people, tummy

you don’t have to go up and tell the others

we’ll be fine.

they were beautiful.

good-looking.

a few were really good-looking.

but…

well.

fuck.

let’s be honest, tummy.

[you-and-me here. honest-engine. I won't tell her if you don't, okay? she needs to think that we're strong]

honestly.

fine.

no.

I mean – yes.

but no.

one didn’t have a smile that breaks me.

and the other one, well, you know I don’t like blondes.

caught a glimpse of five’s legs – no, thanks.

fuck.

they were all beautiful - I promise.

I think.

but none were her.

I bet none had her touch.

I’m sure none had her shoulders.

and I’m certain none had her dance…

the dance she does to her hip-hop music.

the dance she did last night.

I wonder if she thought I was coughing,

when I put my hand up to hide my face

I just didn’t want her to see how much I was laughing

I didn’t want her look inside me.

and I certainly didn’t want her to see you, tummy.

zero.

this is quickly becoming the most popular visit on this little blog. and I feel the need to explain to the new-comers. it ain’t me, babe, this is Tara Noble writing. and gosh, can she write. she has 433 books in her head [studies have been done] and is nice enough to share a few chapters with us. not to mention her music is better than your music, meaning you should listen up as well. listen to Tara. then listen to the music. then re-listen to Tara while re-listening to the music. shit starts to make sense then. there are now fifteen ‘tuesdays with tara’, which is more than 4 months worth. fifteen is also an arbitrary number used to refer to a large quantity of things, but that’s neither here nor there. the funniest part of all of Tara is that she and I have never met – and I seriously can’t remember how we met. I just know we did. and I know how happy I am about it.

aric

-

Every now and again, we all earn the right to just blow it out.  This feeling can erupt suddenly or it can be a creepy sneaky thing that pokes its head around the corner and retreats, only to come back when you least expect it.  When we feel as though a little celebration might be in order, it’s important to first recognize how beautiful that feels; that piece of knowing.  It’s a something that deserves to be savored because it encompasses so many things.  Maybe it’s a lot of hard work that you’ve put into a project.  It could be that a lot of sacrifices you have made to some end have finally produced fruit.  It may well be the satisfaction that one feels when they understand with absolute certainty that they “finally get it.”

Epiphanies are surely as good a reason for a little celebrating as anything else.

When I was home for Christmas, my father tried to have one of his words-of-wisdom talks with me.  This usually happens about every five years or when I seem to have fallen off track a bit too much for his comfort.

What he said to me this time around was that his greatest wish for me was that I could take some time just for myself to think about what I wanted out of life and not allow someone else to dictate the direction in which I moved (literally and figuratively).  I knew what he was saying, of course, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, but instead of reacting like an adult who appreciates the knowledge and love of her father, I got overly emotional and acted as though I had missed the point entirely.  And my dad is a pretty typical guy in that once the waterworks start, all bets are off.  He backed away and we rode in silence until the subject had dissolved into the air.

I’ve just recently come to the realization that I am presently doing exactly what my father suggested that I do for myself.  Not only do I have the luxury of time for self reflection (in my currently unemployed state), but I have the benefit of people in my life with whom I can relate these discoveries and victories.

The long and the short of it is that I am feeling pretty darn good about myself these days. I am beginning to feel validation about my most recent life choice to give up the comforts of life abroad to come home and start from Square One.  It took a lot of courage, but courage I have always had in spades.  What feels so glorious about now is the fact that everything seems to be falling into place for me and I have a sense of harmony that I may never have truly known before.  Years of crying and struggling and confusion and paying my dues in ways I never imagined have all apparently paid off.

The Head and The Heart – ‘For The First Time It Sounds Like Hallelujah’

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this is the sad story of a boat gone too soon.

christened ’scuffboat’, the name coming from the neglected home she came from – abused. cast aside. abandoned. if boat-abuse was a movement, this poor soul would have been pictured on a print ad in the rain, with a soft ‘why???’ as a caption at the bottom followed by a toll-free number. she was basically given to us for free [read: given to us for free]. it wasn’t a good place she came from.

but that all changed when we adopted her. told her she was special and different from other dinghys. and I think she even believed us. we cleaned her up, put some wood on the side and her dirty bottom and voila! a new boat arose from the ashes of a hard English Winter. she was the first boat to take me to my bigger boat. a family of misplaced orphans we were. I took her out when I was blue and she nicely tipped over to make me realize just how important things like ‘getting wet’, ‘being broke’ and ‘falling out of love’ were.

she knew.

and she didn’t deserve to… well, see, this is where it gets hard. not emotionally – I mean, yes, emotionally, but hard in the sense of I don’t exactly know what happened to her.

I lost her.

as in – I lost a boat.

thought my boarding the wrong plane was impressive? yeah – me too.

but, well… she’s gone.

I tied her up one day out on the mooring to go sailing and decided to – seeing how some bad weather was on the way –  tie up next to the boatyard – one of my favorite places in England. came back the next day and headed back out the next morning.

there was no scuffboat. no ropes. nothing.

some say she blew away.

other’s say she sank.

I prefer to think she, like the rest of her family, fancied an adventure.

and went to have one.

or, that’s what I’ll tell myself.

-

there’s a new tender now.

’scuffboat II – the revenge’

we lover her. a good boat. could possibly be even better…

but, much like The Godfather Part I and II – even though the latter might be a better film, you can still never like it more.

the eldest sibling in me would like to assume this is how the birth-order works as well.

and this is not the first scuffboat.

that’s why my mentor has a more solemn look in the second photo.

shit got real.

such is our predicament.

-

Nick bought me a big book of knot-tying the other day… I tried not to take offense.

I have lots to catch-up on. lots, I tell ya. stories of Venice. stories of England. loads of interviews for the friday cinco. life. grubcrawling™. the-girl-with-the-great-name. and how I managed to lose a boat.

but all I can think about is the big trip. if I believed in writing in capital letters, the big trip would be capitalized. it’s going to be a very, very big trip.

now, yes. any scan through this little site of my hopes-and-dreams and what happens when I plan will tell you it ain’t gonna end up like this – but keep in mind, that was before. I was young. misguided. unaware. without direction. and without boat.

at least now I have a boat.

see, this time next year, I’ll be a few months into the big trip [seriously, feel free to capitalize it in your mind]. and brother, what a trip it will be.

can I at least list the highlights?

thanks.

may-ish, we take off – I say ‘we’ because I’ll be following Mel-and-Nick’s journey. pretty much crashing their party. but hey, when you squat in their homes for the better part of a decade, what’s one more annoyance? they did front me the money for the boat – it’s the least I can do to thank them.

okay, yes – the path. the plan. the Bi… ah, see how excited I am? damn near went against all of my grammatical beliefs there.

the big trip.

[may-ish. but I've said that. I'm on fire.]

- leave the UK for France [Mt. St. Michel - maybe?! have been trying for years]; spend a month or so making our way down the coast to…

- the Bay of Biscay; hopefully stopping in/around San Sebastian, which is one of my favorite cities in the world.

- from there, it’s down around to Portugal, where hopefully someone can tell me what my tattoo means.

- and then across to The Azores. I’d never even heard of these islands before, but the fact that a large number of ’scholars’ think it to be part of Atlantis is enough for me. and they’re gorgeous.

- then, the second-to-longest stretch, down to The Canaries. have a peek. good stuff.

- Mel and Nick will stay here for a few months, I’m going to grab a flight [not a sail, mind you - have been warned] to Morocco for a month or so.

- …and then. the Atlantic Crossing. 40+ days at sea*. just me and my little red boat.

- ending up in The Caribbean. not sure exactly where, but I’m not fussy when it comes to The Caribbean.

… and that’s it, the big trip. the very big trip. should be about 13-15 months in total. a lot needs to be done by then, saving some pennies [shockingly cheap, when you consider everything - 6 grand for the whole year], fixing up the boat [she's getting prettier by the day. except for the day when I had her tied up against a big stone wall and a storm came and slapped her around. but we're not talking about my negligent parenting right now]. and oh yeah, learning how to properly sail. I’m slowly getting better at that as well… slowly.

so – I leave the U.K. around the middle of September. head home for a few weeks to see the fam and my brand-new nephew. and then back to Oregon, as I miss my closest friends, the O’Sisneys. and they’re going to speak to the entire city about finding me some work. this is also the time when the book will be completed [tired of hearing that? me too. thus - a real deadline. more on that in a bit]. I’ll stay there until late winter/early spring, when I’ll come back here and have a few months to work on Absurdity and then…

well…

away we go.

-

*I could talk ad nauseum about how much a 40-day solo voyage excites me. in all seriousness, there’s not a lot of sailing, per say, going on. the Trade Winds blow you and, funnily enough, the people I’ve spoken to who’ve done the trip say ‘boredom’ is the biggest challenge. that, and having to wake up every 15 minutes to check the horizon. but I’ll be taking no booze, no ciggies, no Facebook [!], no music, no one. on a very tiny boat. they psychology of this entire thing fascinates me. of course, I say this, but have never been alone for so long, not to mention with no vices. might get out there and find some stuff out I don’t want to. which would be funny… in time. but I want to do stuff – fish. read. shoot off messages in bottles with my information and then promise to visit whoever finds it. and find the humor in making twosies in a bucket. etc.

[I'm also going to try and find a sponsor who'll foot the bill for a satellite phone so I can send little Twitter updates along the way - I think that'd be a good read.]

so, you know. stuff like this.

adventure is out there!

or… so I hear.