Major Announcement - New Book Deal

MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT: Abaddon Books has hired Weston Ochse to write another shared-universe novel, this one for their Afterblight Chronicles novel series.  Weston’s novel, title to be determined, takes place on a floating city off the coast of California. Other authors who’ve written Afterblight Chronicles books include Simon Spurrier, Rebecca Levine, Jasper Spark, Scott Andrews and Al Ewing. Although Afterblight is a shared world, each book stands alone, much like Tomes of the Dead, the zombie imprint for Empire of Salt: Tomes of the Dead, Weston's last book.
 
Here’s an Afterblight Chronicles primer: The Afterblight Chronicles is a post-apocalyptic shared world series published by Abaddon Books. All the novels are mass market paperbacks and are released everywhere English language books are sold. Here’s a little about the World of Afterblight from the Abaddon Website” The world has been devastated by an epidemic. Although there are pockets of an attempted continuation of civilization, the truth is that the world has gone to hell in a handcart. The reason for this is a disease that has wiped out most of the world's population. It kills almost all those who are not of the blood group 'O neg'. Those people who survive are untouched. Everyone else dies. Infrastructures have collapsed. Mobs run rampant. The only kind of law that exists is that imposed by the people with the biggest guns. In this devastated and chaotic world who can bring hope and order? (From The Abaddon website)

Abaddon Solaris Catologue for 2011

"Because of a genetic quirk, about twelve percent of native Americans are left alive. In Central and South America, this is slightly higher. To the East - Korea, Tibet, East Asia - the figure rises to around fifteen percent. In the remains of the USA, this could make them the dominant force. In other parts of the world, where survival rates are higher than the west, the balance of world power (when some kind of order eventually re-emerges) could change. Which, as will become clear, brings with it a whole new set of problems." From the Afterblight Chronicles Bible"

COVER ART

 

Luke Preece will be doing the cover art for the book. Here are two of Luke's covers --

House of Fear

End of the Line

          ~MORE NEWS LATER~

~PLEASE CONTACT THE AUTHOR DIRECTLY FOR MORE INFORMATION~

Weston Ochse Email 

Cheating in the Virtual Classroom

Cheating in the Virtual Classroom

By Weston Ochse © 2011

I recently read an article called The Shadow Scholar. When originally published in November 2010 it was anonymously ascribed and detailed one man’s accounts of his contributions to America’s institutions of higher learning. Now given a pseudonym because of a book deal on the matter, Ed Dante admits to writing other people’s term papers for a living. 

In addition to 5,000 papers over the last few years—“I've written toward a master's degree in cognitive psychology, a Ph.D. in sociology, and a handful of postgraduate credits in international diplomacy. I've worked on bachelor's degrees in hospitality, business administration, and accounting. I've written for courses in history, cinema, labor relations, pharmacology, theology, sports management, maritime security, airline services, sustainability, municipal budgeting, marketing, philosophy, ethics, Eastern religion, postmodern architecture, anthropology, literature, and public administration. I've attended three dozen online universities. I've completed 12 graduate theses of 50 pages or more. All for someone else.”

The article was originally published in The Chronicle of Higher Education. Reading it, I find it difficult to raise my ire to an acceptable level. Sure it’s bad to cheat.  That there are so many illiterate graduates out there is egregious. But isn’t he a symptom of a problem, rather than the creator of one. Dante states that he wrote the article to stimulate conversation and perhaps a debate about the mechanisms by which we judge the success or failure of our curriculum.

So where is the failure? Does it lay in our inability to monitor students’ work in a virtual university environment? Are we applying a two-hundred year old rubric to a modern problem set? What about those English as a Second Language students who are capable of creating advanced quantum mechanical equations, but cannot form enough perfect English sentences to complete a cogent thesis: is the thesis then a measure of their knowledge or a measure of their English?

These are all good questions I don’t have an answer for. I do think that a person shouldn’t be penalized in this modern age for their inability to speak a local language, unless that language is critical to the performance of the degree.  Perhaps in this case a new university paradigm can be created wherein students can attend in their native language, be graded in their native language, and still receive the same degree. This should be especially the case for the sciences. How much invention are we stifling because of the unnecessary need to conjugate words in someone else’s language?

I finished an online Master of Fine Arts a few years ago. I attended National University. They probably have a rigorous method of detecting cheating, but the very nature of my creative writing degree precluded even an attempt on my part of cheating, so whatever they did, it was invisible to me. Still, in conducting research, I noted those times when I could have taken shortcuts, cheated, even made up things more erudite than I was able to find. But I didn’t. Then again, I didn’t have to.

But there are those who do find it necessary to cheat, and when they do, there are people like Mr. Dante out there to service their needs.  So I ask again, what should we think about this? How would you approach solving this problem?

I noted that the pseudonym Ed Dante comes from Alexander Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo character, Edmund Dante. The book is the tale of a man unjustly imprisoned, who eventually escapes, and brings down those involved in the imprisoning. Perhaps this is a bit overly dramatic. I for one would have used the pseudonym Bartelby the Scrivener. At least he copied things for a living. I suppose he just didn't render the appropriately heroic figure.

American-German-Russian Surf Music!

I have love affair with music. Like most people, different music affects many different ways. Sometimes I'm happy to just go around listing to my MP3 Player, which includes artists like Eminem, Muse, Black-eyed Peas, Tokyo hotel, Life House, will.I.am, and Pink. It's all good. I've even been known to listen to a few Lady GaGa, but I won't admit that in public. I do like Nellie. I'm huge fan of Earth Wind and Fire. I can't figure out why Kanye West is popular. The White Stripes,
Queens of the Stone Age, Guns and Roses, Boy Hits Car and Papa Roach are all awesome Papa roach. I dig Rihanna. But it seems to me that I get these phases where I listen to all the songs over and over and over again incessantly. I get to the point where I'll listen and I really want to be able to just get in the groove, as if the music puts me in some type of beta wave state. Which is cool but sometimes I want more.

So I was on Beatpick the other day just check out the music and bumped into a group called The Jancee Pornick Casino (Pravda). I was actually looking for some surf rock music so how these two crazy Russian dudes exiled in Germany were able to come up on a search engine for surf rock was crazy. But before I figured it out, I began listening. The first song was called Pute au Crack which I won't translate, but it is a pretty awesome song. Essentially what The Jancee Pornick Casino (Pravda) is a rock and roll blender full of
surf rock, rockabilly, 60s garage band. They have been compared as Brian Stetzer meets Angus Young. The Jancee Pornik Casino has a certain profanity about them which I absolutely adore. So it isn't any surprise then, that I've been using them to write my latest story, which is titled 20th level chaotic Evil Rogue Seeks Whole Wide World to Conquer and is a profane soulless story about a guy who travels the world trying to take advantage of it.

The story goes:

American guitarplayer Jancee Warnick meets two crazy Russian dudes in his German exile. Together they form one of the strangest and most explosive rock’n roll-bands of our time.

Since 1999 the trio has been living in their tour-van ploughing through Europe on a jagged trail of rock’n roll hardship and blazing success.

Countless gigging in small dives and bigger concert halls (e.g. with DICK DALE, ROYAL CROWN REVUE, RESTLESS, THE KLINGONZ, LES WAMPAS) has gained the band a cultish following.

The PORNICK CASINO dishes up an irresistable (Molotov-) cocktail of SURF MUSIC, ROCKABILLY and 60’S GARAGE yet always being topped off with some vodka-drenched Russian spirit, adrenaline and self-irony.

Jancee’s jack-in-the-box Las-Vegas-on-speed persona tries to crossbreed BRIAN SETZER’s virtuosity with ANGUS YOUNG’s striking force all the while driven by a Sibirian hurricane of Vladimir’s bass balalayka and Stanislav’s drum craze.

If you haven't heard The Jancee Pornick Casino (Pravda), check this out. I think that if you're like me, that you will be very interested. I am absolutely curious to know what other people think. There are a lot of you out there who know a hell of a lot more about music than I do. In fact, I really don't pay as much attention to it as I should. Still, I really want to find out what you all think of this band.

So let me know.
Don't keep me waiting.
Which one is your favorite and why?

Weston Ochse
Tarantula Grotto
Mexican Border

Where's Weston- Schedule of Upcoming Events

Upcoming Events:

Jan 17 – 23           ITW Roundtable Blog: Outlining and Plotting.

Feb 5                    Sierra Vista Library: 2^nd Annual Writers Workshop

Feb 7 – 13             ITW Roundtable Blog: Which authors inspire you?
Feb 15                 Guest Blog for Janice Gable Bashman: Writing Fear

Mar 12                  Tucson Festival of Books

                                1130: Beyond Belief in the Southwest

                                1600: Eagerly Awaiting the Zompocalypse

Apr 3-ish              Guest Lecture at Oradea, University in Romania

Apr 28 - 1 May    World Horror Convention in Austin, Texas

This list is continually updated. When updated, it will be re-posted.

International Thriller Writers Roundtable - Do You Plot?

Today I begin an International Thriller Writer sponsored roundtable discussion “Do you plot, plan, or outline? Or, do you just go where your characters lead you? Why? 

The Roundtable is comprise of Matt Lynn, Weston Ochse (that's me), LJ Sellers, Allan Leverone, Pam Callow, Chris Beakey, Michael Haskins, Larry D. Thompson, Blaize Clement, Matt Forbeck, Reece Hirsch and Edgar Franzmann. All my partners in this crime have written terrific books.

As a member of International Thriller Writers (ITW), I was asked to participate in this and another discussion in a few weeks. I’ve been looking forward to this because we aren’t lamenting problems, but discussing craft. We’re going to be talking about process. For me, the writer's process has always been of incredible interest to see how others do the same thing I do. It never ceases to amaze me that two of us can write a book doing it completely differently.

In this week’s discussion, however, we are talking about plot. My guess is that all of us outline to some degree. What’s going to be of interest is the different degrees. My hope is to learn from these ITW friends and perhaps incorporate some small elements into my own writing.

We’ll see. If nothing more, we’re talking about my favorite thing, writing. And that counts for something.

So please come on over and read a little of what we are saying. Feel free to comment (I think anyone can comment). This is open to the public.


And don't forget to read The Big Thrill, ITW's online newsletter.

Weston Ochse
Desert Grotto
Mexican Border

2010 Top Five Books

Everyone's doing a list of best books of the year. Why should I be any different. I read as much as the next guy, albiet, my reading habits aren't the same as many of you. If you were to break down my reading for pleasure, it would go something like this:

Literary Fiction 40%

Mystery/Thriller 20%

Fantasy 15%

Horror 15%

Science Fiction 10%

So why is it that I write dark science fiction and horror? Because it's what I like to write, I suppose. Actually, I like to write damn near everything. At a booksigning at the Poisoned Pen yesterday, Patrick Millikin, one of the managers, mentioned that it used to be that authors could write whatever they wanted. Readers recognized that if an author could write, then he could write just about anything, as long as he was well-read, educated and talented. But somewhere along the way we got pidgeon-holed by the markets. So sad.

Still, most of the time, I write what I want. And I always read what I want. So here are my top five books of 2010. I refuse to put them in any order. Each one could have been a number one pick at any given time.

Conscience by John Skipp. Skipp and I have known each other for awhile now, and I proudly call him my friend. I've read some of his work before, but nothing like this. Conscience is a business card he used when breaking back into the scene a few years back. It's a tremendous collection of work and I think represents the best of what Skipp can do, which is better than 99% of what the rest of us can do.

A Happy Marriage: A Novel by Rafael Yglesias. I first heard of this during an interview on NPR. I listen to this station whenever I am not listening to music. I love the special programs regarding arts and literature. Rarely does NPR steer me wrong, as you will see later in this list. A Happy Marriage is not for the faint of heart. But if you want to read about love, real love, the kind of love where a man has to care for his wife during her last days of cancer, then this is your book. It's at once inspiring and depressing. But where it could be easily bogged down, Rafael uses flashbacks and forwards. He begins with both the beginning and the end of relationship, then works inwards towards the heart. 

 The Blade Itself (The First Law: Book One) by Joe Ambercrombie. I love good fantasy trilogies. I read several this last year. Brent Weeks Night Angel Trilogy was damn good. Joe Abercrombies was both damned good and gritty as a two dollar hooker in a crack den. I bought this book while in vacation in Warwick, England. I devoured it so quickly that I bought the other two at Heathrow on the way back. This is everything a fantasy novel and trilogy should be. It has absolutely all the elements, with the addition of being violent, unrelenting, and breathtaking in the author's determination to present a realistic setting, with all the blood, gore, and stench it has to have.

Biggest Elvis: A Novelby P.F. Kluge. I also heard about Kluge on NPR. I bought Gone Tomorrow and really enjoyed it. So when I went to the bookstore to see what else this author had written, I was pleased to find this title. Those of you who know me know that I have a little love affair with all things Elvis, evidenced by my tattoo, if nothing else. This novel is the tale of three Elvis impersonators living in the Philippines. Each impersonator represents Elvis at a different time in his career. With mafia, prostitutes, and the eternal theme of redemption, this novel had everything I wanted and left me wanting more. This is really a nice piece of work, even if you don't care at all about Elvis.

Last Night in Twisted River: A Novel by John Irving. It's hard to believe that in the years he has been writing that he's only produced a few novels. You'd think there'd be fifty. There should be. But the very fact that they're not, makes each one a gem. Last Night is no exception. This is another novel about redemption and acceptance. It carries the characters through their entire lives, letting you live along as they experience truth, majesty and tragedy.  This is Irving at the top of his game.

Mike Calvillo - Get Well My Friend

So, I just heard that my dear friend Michael Louis Calvillo has Stage 4 CUP. This stands for Carcinoma of Unknown Primary. Oh. My. God.

There are too many emotions running through me right now. My hands are shaking so typing this is hard. But I want to send out amazing thoughts to Mike.  So here goes.

Mike, when you came to me and asked me about writing five years ago, I'm glad I spoke to you. I don't know what I said, but you always tell me what an inspiration it was. Personally, I think you were just being polite, because you are an inspiration in your own right. When you published your first book, I'm glad you sent it to me. I was amazed by it. When you had problems or questions about the industry, it was my pleasure to give advice. Whenever we saw each other there was a smile on your face. I have a dozen memories of you walking towards me, each time the smile owns you. You are one of the most upbeat and energetic people I've known. It's always been a great pleasure to see you and talk to you. You're a teacher and when I watch you in a crowd, I wished I had a teacher like you. I've had the pleasure of dining with you and your wife, of reading your work, of talking to you as both a mentor and a friend, and of watching you succeed. Mike, I love you and am sending all of my energy to you. Get better Mike. You are a good man, a great friend, and a tremendous writer. We need you. Hell, I need you.

Here's a link to a video of him reading right after me in Brighton at WHC 2010. Isn't he awesome?

You don't have to reply, but please, send out thoughts into the universe. Good ones. Healing ones.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rHCF6t38ek

Poisoned Pen Book Signing Tomorrow!!!

TOMORROW! Yvonne and I will be signing copies of our books for at the Poisoned Pen bookstore in Scottsdale, Arizona. The book signing will occur at 2 PM.

 Yvonne will be signing copies of her new novel Highborn. The bookstore will also have copies of many of her previous novels some of which are out of print.
►

Poisoned Pen BookstorePoisoned Pen Bookstorehttp://maps.google.com/?cid=17749290540727505909s=9739891353775061327 Place page 4014 N Goldwater Blvd # 101 Scottsdale, AZ 85251-4344 (480) 947-2974

I will be signing copies of Empire of Salt. If you are one of the three people living in the Phoenix area who has not read this novel then now is your chance to get in on the graph copy signed by the one and only me.

Allyson James will also be signing her books.space I get to meet her, but look forward to it. She will be signing copies of her new book Firewalker.I thought maybe it was a novelization of the 1980s Chuck Norris and Louis Gossett Junior movie but as it turns out it's not. But that doesn't mean it's not any good. It's probably an awesome book. Even without Chuck Noris and Louis Gossett Junior.


So be there or be square. I know who you are. And if you are not there I will be incredibly disappointed.

Weston Ochse
Desert Grotto
Mexican Border

Stupid with Glory

I don't know what it is about Blaze of Glory, but it makes me do stupid things. Take the first promotional reading I did on the internet. I wrapped myself in Saran wrap, wore dish gloves and my motorcycle jacket, a cold weather hat and ski glasses. If you listen to me read, I'm reading so fast, because I can barely breath and and I'm about to pass out. What you can't see during the reading is my glasses fogging up. It was just ridiculous.

Stupid Author Tricks Take 2! I decided to  film me opening the package containing the tray case deluxe edition. I make about twenty errors in the video and almost destroy a $500 dollar slip case.  It's just ridiculous.

But... if you want to see this author in all his (ahem) glory, feel free to click on this video. I've also included the initial video. Don't drink while you're watching it or you will spit-take on your monitor.

A Weston Ochse Primer - Jan 2011

I figure I should do this occasionally. Not only are there publishers out there who have thought enough of me to publish my work, but there are fans out there who are trying to feed their kids by selling my books. The least I can do is occasionally point everyone in the right directions.

So where is Weston?

There's a very rare uncorrected proof of my Bram Stoker-winning first novel on eBay that will be gone in 2 hours.

Empire of Salt is still selling like crazy overseas and online. It's a hard title to find in U.S. stores because it was sold out initially. Abaddon sent some of the British copies across the pond, however,so they are making their way into stores. If you can't wait, I recommend buying it online at Mysterious Galaxy, The Poisoned Pen, Book Soup, or Amazon or Barnes and Nobles.

Blaze of Glory which is still available in Limited Edition is now available in Deluxe Lettered Edition. There's only a few of these left so if you want one of the lettereds you need to act now. Thanks to Bloodletting Press for producing an amazing book. And yes, that color is 'Supersoaker green.'

One of only 26 signed, leather bound and traycased hardcover editions.

• Custom endpapers
• Black topstain to pages
• Satin ribbon sewn in bookmark
• Bound in calf skin leather
• Custom traycase with satin ribbon to lift book
• Different signature sheet from the limited

Blaze of Glory is precious to me. It started out as a novella, that then became a screenplay that was almost made into a movie by Wesley Snipes, then became this novel. An essay telling the sordid tale is included.

Digital Books. Also are several of my books which have been placed on Kindle. They are Empire of Salt (Zombies), Scary Rednecks and Other Inbred Horrors (short stories), Butterfly Winter (novella), On Writing Horror (Writer's Digest How To Guide), and The Dead That Walk (features The Crossing of Aldo Ray). They can be found at this link. Scary Rednecks and Butterfly Winter are also Nook Books and are in all other formats on Smashwords.


Let's not forget Lord of the Lash, an intergalactic pulp opera from Bad Moon Books. There's only a few of these left and at $12.00 it's one of the cheapest of my limited edition books available.


Audio Books. Last but not least are my audio books and stories. The crowd favorite is Catfish Gods, but there are many of my stories available. They can be found at Amazon or at Audible.

There are probably more books out there, but that's all I can think of at the moment.

Feel free to email me or respond with any thing you want to say. Talking to readers, both old and new, is the fun part of writing.

Let me leave you with this, written by a bookseller at The Poisoned Pen in Phoenix about Empire of Salt. When you can scare someone who reads books for a living, then you've done something. "Weston Ochse has produced a novel that truly scared the hell out of me.  Ochse novel is set in Salton Sea, CA- truly one of the creepiest places on earth.  Zombies have begun to emerge from the depths of the lake itself (a result of a failed government project).  Only a few town residents will survive the night.  I guarantee a few sleepless nights for you, the reader."  

All the Best

Weston Ochse

Desert Grotto

Mexican Border

New Years Day - 2011

The last few days of 2010 were filled with Family. Not much writing, but getting back with family is important. My daughter came home from college and my son came down from Nevada. First time he'd been home in four years. It was nice to have them back, if not a little hectic. Family sure is something special and I have a certain amount of pride for both of my children.

Christmas came and went. I got plenty of goodies, not the least of which is this awesome Christmas ornament that plays Viva Las Vegas. For Yvonne I got a 27 inch HD flat screen monitor from BenQ. Her office is now a NASA backup location.

On the writing front, Locus Magazine reported that I signed a contract for Dark Regions Press to publish my first ever solo fiction collection. It's titled Multiplex Fandango. Cover art by Vincent Chong. Introduction by Joe Lansdale.

Locus also reported that Yvonne Navarro and I signed another contract with Dark Regions for a YA novel called Ghost Heart. Vincent Chong will also do the cover for this one. It takes place in the Black Hills of South Dakota during the Sturgis Biker Rally. It's pretty awesome.


I also have a story in the next Cemetery Dance Magazine.

On the personal side. I've been doing a lot of reading. I read A Happy Marriage by Rafael Yglesias. It was damned awesome. I know why it won the L.A. Times Book Award now.  You might know him from his screenplays, From Hell, Dark Water, Fearless, etc.

I also read Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. It was a modern Peyton Place. I thought it was too long, but enjoyed it nonetheless. Franzen has a skill in making me want to read about people I don't like.

Reading now The King's Bastard by Rowena Cory Daniells. Major epic fantasy from my publisher in England. Truly enjoying it. Highly recommend.

On the Movie front, I watched The American with George Clooney.  Oh My God. It was so awful. I mean, it wasn't even good. It was the slowest thing I've ever seen. My local video store had 50 copies (which were all checked out) and I told my son when we saw that there are now 50 pissed off people in town.

That's it so far.

I got up this morning and finished the proposal excerpt for a major novel that an editor at a major publisher asked me to do. Nothing firm yet. He can still turn it down. But it has awesome potential. I still need to do the chapter summary, but that will come easier now I'm 4 chapters into the novel.

Wish me luck.

Holiday Season -ODF

The holiday season is working the crap out of me. Between work, buying presents, trying to get new light strings (and then hang them) for the house, writing projects, my dear old government sending me packing to the far reaching corners of the globe, and the basic sundries of every day life, I don't have a second to spare. How is it that the rest of you are able to get so many things done and hear I am ODF*!

I wish I had the time to do all the things I want to do. And now today, I'm packing up and leaving for the rest of the week. Going to spend some quality time in Tacoma freezing my cajones off.  Although I love the holidays, I can't wait for them to be over so there are fewer things competing with my time.

* ODF literally means Out Dere Flapping (Out There Flapping). Those who spent time in the service will recognize this. ODF metaphorically means I am outside flapping my arms and getting nowhere. Learn it. Love it. Use it. ODF.

Mothra Kills them All!

BTAM's Tale of  How He Defeated King Kong and Godzilla and Got the Girl

Romania Days 6 -12.

 

I met the Hammer and Sickle last night during an event at a local restaurant to which I’d been invited. A nationally known Pan flautist and her ensemble were present for a Grand Reopening of Café Bihoreana. The café is a typical European restaurant. It’s situated at the end of Strada Republica, a pedestrian walkway near Ferdinand Square in downtown Oradea, Romania. Outside eating can be done under tall trees. Inside is a study in dark and light Carpathian wood craftsmanship. That I was there with the Hammer and Sickle would have been strange enough had not King Kong and Godzilla arrived as well. But that’s at the end of the story, better kept until my week is more completely understood.

When last we left this weary traveler, he’d just finished running through Romania. You’d been provided his eccentric playlist and are probably still wondering how the hell Bony M made it into my lineup. That evening I was able to meet some of the folks I’d be working with over the next few days, including an American colleague and several Brits. We went across the street from the hotel to Café Piccolo to get to know each other. After about an hour of measuring and comparing our…accomplishments… we got down to ordering.  That the menu had fried brains as one of the appetizers wasn’t something we were going to shy away from so shortly after the measurement period. If you must know, they have the consistency of cold, oily scrambled eggs, with an Alpo aftertaste. I can now scratch Pig Brains off the list.

The next morning, I don’t know if was the brains or something I’d done while running, but I couldn’t get out of bed. My right foot wouldn’t support any weight at all. Nothing. And there was no previous warning, either. The night before it was just fine. Then, of course, while I slept, I suppose things shifted out of place. I had two dark red spots near my sole on either side of the ankle and about two inches forward towards my toes. These turned to dark purple for several days. Lucky for me, I was able to begin putting weight on it out of sheer will, determination, and girly screams, so that by the time I had to walk down for breakfast, I could limp. But my foot was swollen. The 1600 mgs of ibuprofen helped to reduce the swelling, but nothing more. In fact, it wasn’t until the next day when I took a few hours off from work to put my foot up and wrap it that it went entirely back to normal. And then on Wednesday it was as if nothing had happened. Needless to say there was no more running. 

On Wednesday night we went to Café Bihoreana for the first time and met Maria. Maria is a wide matron of a woman. There’s clear Romani blood running through her veins. Time has been an insensitive bitch to her features, but she is still a proud woman, capable of running a sizable restaurant. The café doesn’t have any English menus, so I found a young girl to help us translate. Imagine, eight of us asking over and over, “What’s this mean?” “And this? “And this?” Soon Maria came over and shooed the girl away so that she could attend us herself. She put her hands on my shoulders and spoke through me the entire evening. Everyone joked about it, but I thought it was fine. I was a gentle young American and was a great voice for her struggling English. And she answered all of our questions through me. We ordered wine and each of us was happy with our meals, even though the idea of medium rare cooked steak is something this part of the world doesn’t really understand. For myself, I had a Romanian house specialty of marinated white beans and pork. It was really spectacular. Also wonderful was the Pizza Putanescu which had a gloriously simple amount of anchovy juice waved above it to produce just the right amount of salty fish taste.

On the next night was an official dinner, supplied by our sponsors. We went out of town to Allegria Restaurant, which is part of a thermal spa resort. The food was probably the best. Then again, how can you go wrong when you stuff tenderloin with prosciutto and cheese, then bake it perfectly.  The Romanians have a thing about serving two-meat meals. Last night I had chicken stuffed with sausage. At any time, meat is their primary meal, sometimes twice. The national joke is that pork is their national vegetable. The most common non-starchy vegetable to get is mushrooms, which I tried to get with every meal, usually grilled. At least it was something. A man has to try.

There’s also something about the Old World architecture that takes my breath away. If you take a look at my pictures, you will notice some of this. Coming from America, where nothing is really that old, some of the buildings I see are stunning. I’ve tried to capture some of the most interesting aspects, but as you can imagine, the camera lens just can’t capture what the human brain magnifies through our own optic lenses. It is at once spectacular, disappointing, gross, and a martial monument to more than fifty years of Soviet rule. The statuary in this country is amazing. They imbue cultural memory and heritage into stone, wood and steel. It seems as if ever hero, heroine, great man and/or woman was so honored. I know my own country has at least as many of these great people. I wish it didn’t take wars and devastation to impress upon our government the need for the honoring of the few. They under-appreciate their ability to promote greatness. I’ve seen the power of the monuments. I’ve been affected by them myself. Even here, in this old country I watched a young boy staring up at the statue of a great old warrior. I could only imagine the hopes and dreams the horse-backed soldier inspired. Maybe the idea of greatness will make that boy someone special, someone spectacular to lead the Romanian people into the middle of the 21st century in some as yet unknown miraculous achievement. I can only say from my own experience, that the Renaissance man I strive to be today was first imagined in the mind of a young child reader of tales of Prestor John, Tolkien, and the magnificence between the pages of DC and Marvel comics, all which commanded a particular ideal—one could become as badass as one wanted to be, if only one tried and overcame, and tried and overcame, and kept damn trying. I am here now because I kept trying and I imagine that the young boy I saw on that bleak Romanian day might become the same, if only because of an impression made from the sight of a raised sword and a howl of victory caught for eternity against the crucible of an ever revolving sky.

Then came the Hammer and the Sickle. Maria had told me when she invited me that she was going to have some English-speaking Romanians sitting with me. She also mentioned that they might be pretty girls. I told her in unequivocal terms that I was a very happily married man and that she should not attempt to get me in trouble. She nodded and said she wasn’t trying to do that and that they weren’t those kind of girls. I made it clear that it shouldn't be. Even so, the Hammer and Sickle turned out to be two models hired to escort guests into the restaurant, tight shorts, tight shirts, and all that jazz. When they first came in and Maria escorted them to my table I laughed. They were too pretty and as much fun as I was going to have that night, I would suffer because of it. Maria smiled grandly. I really think she meant well.

So I made the best of the situation. I was polite and a gentleman. I spoke when spoken to. The event started and I barely saw them. I ate the appetizer, which consisted of some pieces of salami, a local mortadella, cheese, radishes and a lonely green onion. Incidentally, I call them the Hammer and Sickle for a reason. Long the symbol of Soviet dominance the device is absent from any edifice in Eastern Europe. IT’s been scratched, clawed, drilled, beaten and exploded into extinction by the residents, relieved to finally be free of the tyrannical rule. But it is still in the psyche. And an age ago I was a young man who joined an army to defeat it. So when I think of this part of the world, the reality of what it is palimpsests upon my memory of what it was. So the girl who was clearly from Russian genes was the Sickle, while the Gypsy was the Sickle.

Everything was going splendidly until King Kong and Godzilla walked into the room. When they were sat at my table, I laughed out loud, because I knew that whatever pain and agony I was going to get from this intersection of our lives had just been exponentially increased to an infinite number which could only be calculated by the combined efforts of the ghost of Carl Sagan and the mind of Steven Hawking. They sat at the table, unrolled their arms, lit impossibly long cigarettes and blew the smoke towards me. I don’t know what I was supposed to do but I coughed. And I kept coughing until they blew their smoke a different way. Thus was our relationship.

Kong as it turned out was a recently anointed Ms. Romania. She seemed to stand eleven feet tall with thirteen foot legs. She was pretty in that way someone is pretty when you look at them from the side, but into her eyes your gaze passes straight on through to the wall behind.


Godzilla was another matter entirely. She was the matriarch and head of a modeling agency that spanned 140 girls and several dozen countries.  She spoke English perfectly. She was smart. So smart, she noticed my wedding ring which I kept displaying prominently as if it were an adamantium shield of invisible supermodel protection. That’s when we began talking about my wife.

You might have heard of her, Yvonne Navarro Ochse. I am so proud and so in love with her that it is always a topic of conversation wherever I go. I’d already bragged about how great she is in the preceding week with Mark, Jimmy, James, and John. They told me about their wives and loves, and I couldn’t help but do the same. So it was with much pride that I began talking to this supermodel matriarch of supermodels about my wife: her beauty, accomplishments, and undying-never-ending love for dogs.  We talked through the main double-meat course. Then amidst a chiropractor’s dream of twisted necks as every man in the room turned to watch them go, they left. And then, after the door had closed and each man had looked down at his food and glanced back at his wife, all of their eyes found me. I could see them wondering, imagining, carving me into a hero. And I sat there grinning slightly, knowing that for one moment I was Tony Soprano, Huggy Bear in “I’m Gonna Get You Sucka,” John Travolta, and more importantly, Weston Ochse, man married to the gosh-damn-hottest-chick in the known universe. They all wished that they were me for that second. They thought that they knew what was great about the moment. They thought they understood. But what they missed, what wasn’t part of my smile, was that my happiness and confidence were far less a result of my interaction with the women than it was the knowledge that I would soon be returning to the coolest chick in all the land.

So mark your calendars and celebrate next year the date that Weston defeated the Hammer and the Sickle and Godzilla and King Kong. And believe it or not, it was much easier than you could imagine. In fact, it took almost no effort at all.

Now it is Sunday. It’s warm and inviting outside, but I want nothing more than to be home. Traveling is always a joy for the first half of the trip. But I love who I am. I love where I live and who I live with. I want them near. I want them with me.

In a strange intergalactic convergence, “Nights in Rodanthe” was on HBO when I awoke this morning and I watched the last 45 minutes, even knowing in advance how miserable it was going to get. Yvonne and I had watched it in miniature on the back of an airplane seat earlier this year returning from England. There’s a line in the movie that I thought of when I asked my wife to marry me. In fact, I might have said it through my fumbling, bumbling proposal. It goes something like this, with Diane Lane the main character, talking to her daughter: “There's another kind of love. One that gives you the courage to be better than you are, not less than you are. One that makes you feel that anything is possible. I want you to know that you could have that. I want you to hold out for it.”

This is the love I have for my wife.

Thank you all for adventuring with me through Romania. But as good as this place is, it isn’t as good as the worst place in her arms. It’s time to go home.

Until next time we talk.

As they say in Romania, Buono Sera.

Romanian Picture Album

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Romani Day 4 - Writing and Running

I got up this morning and talked to Von by chat for a while, then went to breakfast. When I returned, I decided to take a bath. The hotel is built over a geothermal cap, so the water is gaseous, murky and hotter than hell. So I was careful. I sat in the water and sweated enough to fog up my old man glasses while reading the first story in Grisham's Ford County, loaned to my by my father-in-law. Blood Drive is an entirely believable story, as improbable as it seems. By the looks of it, the rednecks in Ford County aren't that different from the one's I grew up by in Hamilton County.

Then I did what every person in a foreign country does when they have an entire vista to explore. I took a nap. When I woke up, I dove into the story I'd been working on for an invitation only anthology about haunted things. I chose a haunted truck, in so far as used this picture as my inspiration. I only had one page done before I left on the trip and an idea of where it was going to go. But after yesterday and today it's finished. 6500 words. It's called The Milky Way Truck and is like of Stephen King's The Body were written by me channeling Cormac McCarthy. Or at least I think so. Anyway, it's done and I emailed the editor and he's happy, even though I'm going to sit in the story for a few days and let it percolate.

Now I can concentrate on my secret project, I shall refer to as CYP.

But before that, I had to conduct some maintenance on the old body. A few Leffe Blonds and some pasta weren't doing me any favors. So I filled up four empty two liter water bottles with nasty geothermal hotel water, put them in my rucksack, put on my UT sweatshirt, shorts, hightops, shades and mp3 player and went running. Or what I call running, which is a sort of mixture of staggers and walking and lurching and trying not to fall, doing all this as fast as my old bones will work. I managed four miles. I've provided some pictures to show you some of the things I passed. The dog's name is Igor and had a wire mesh mask on. I wanted to take a picture of that, because the dog looked positively Frankenstonian, but they took it off. Still, great looking Bull Terrier. I passed the almost deserted Olympic Complex used back in the Soviet Union Days, then crossed the river. I almost fell down the steps on the other side; well, I did fall down the steps, but I caught myself.

What was surreal was listening to my MP3 player and running by old Soviet era cars, homes, babushkas, young families dressed like they stepped off the set of the Sopranos, old men fishing, gypsies drinking on the bank of the river. Here are the songs I listened to in the right order. Besides being a pretty eclectic mix, imagine listening to some of these and seeing some of the things in the pictures, or what I described.

will.i.am - Heartbreaker
Riahanna - SOS
Thid Eye Blind - Jumper
Kevin Little - Turn Me On (Dancehall Remix)
Kilo- Lean Like a Cholo
Bony M - Daddy Cool

Eminem - Mockingbird
Earth Wind and Fire - Fantasy
Pink - Don't Let Me Get Me
Muse- Uprising
Papa Roach - Scars
Katy Perry - I Kissed a Girl

Pink - So What
Erin McCarly - Pony
Katy Perry - California Girls
New Radicals -You Get What You Give
Pink - Get the Party Started
Rihanna - Disturbia
Live Your Life - T.I.

By the way, the Katy Perry songs I blame on my daughter. I have no idea how they got in there.