THE OPEN PERCH

(Written For Amy Before She Came Into My Life)

I imagine her as a bird. All silver in her feathered finery as she flies over landscapes reduced in size like a topographical map.

Where she is coming from I cannot say. But where she is bound, the far distant perch that calls to her like a guiding star . . . ah, there's a thought that brings up a smile!

For hers is a journey that could take her across continents, lifetimes, even the universe for all I know. While here I wait in the crow's nest of my solitary life, watching for a woman whose features I won't recognize but whose heart I will know intimately with the certainty of a lover.

And in truth I am not waiting, but also flying in my soul to meet her, a journey that has taken me across the span of my own lifetime and the gulf of that same mysteriously mapped universe.

I cannot say when she and I last met--in what former life, in what manner of relationship. We could have been brother and sister, parent and child, even lovers in a doomed marriage. But in this lifetime we have passed through each other's night skies without taking notice, living our lives apart while slowly and inevitably being drawn together like planets falling into each other's orbits.

Now, it is time for us to meet and I know it. Just as she must know the same truth within her own heart. What a beautiful illusion this is. What pride the Master Magician must feel to see us flying towards each other while the watching world believes us stuck in our lives, trudging across the same mundane existences we trudged across yesterday, and all the yesterdays before.

But no measure of time or distance truly separates two kindred spirits. What matters most is the rightness of the moment not the limitations of physics. What matters most is the urgency of two hearts to once again be joined.

And so I feel her presence. I sense the shadow of her wings as it glides across my soul's landscape as certainly as I sense fragrance from flowers and moisture in a mist. We are flying towards each other through a sky free of cloud or obstruction, both of us unable to resist the accelerating pull of love's gravity.

In a world where the laws of physics have been superceded by the inevitability of attraction, time no longer holds sway over possibilities; yet ironically it has somehow become the right time for this cosmic connection to be made. The right moment for her to find me and for me to find her.

I imagine her as a bird. Flying with a certainty known only by an arrow truly shot or a soul mate heading for the open perch in her lover's heart.

She is flying to me. And I am flying to her.

Two souls who, in the perfection of some unwritten Grand Plan, will once again become one.

Love, I am waiting.

Tales Of The Book Part Twelve

MAN ON THE RUN

Move it, he said, there isn't much time.

So you stepped on the gas or walked a bit faster or hurried your phone conversation, and still arrived late for your next activity.

Faster, he said, only losers slow down.

So you worked late at the office or left the party early or rushed out of the house without kissing the kids goodbye, and still never made up for the time you lost.

Hurry up, he said, you'll miss your big opportunity.

So you took a second job working weekends or cheated in business or cancelled the family vacation, and still never found the opportunity you were looking for.

Skip the formalities, he said, you'll have time for that later.

So you forgot your anniversary or never showed up for parents night at school or stepped over a friend to better your position, and still found yourself dreaming about all the things you didn't have.

Don't slow down, he said, time grows shorter every minute.

So you pretended to stay young or cheated on your marriage or forgot to watch your children growing up, and still never found someone who could understand you.

Pick up your speed, he said, time's almost up.

So you grew bitter and resentful or left your family or started a list with everything the world owed you, and still grew older every day.

Final seconds, he said, last chance to make good.

So you looked around and wondered where all the time had gone or searched out those you had wronged or started making friends with priests, and still couldn't get his voice out of your head.

Move it, he said, you're running out of time.

And finally he was right.

You ran out of time.


The above is from the collection, "How To Train A Rock" by Paul Steven Stone, available on Amazon.com. For more information, go to HowToTrainARock.com, or the author's site at PaulStevenStone.com

In Remembrance Of The Ozone Layer

TO MY CHILDREN WITH APOLOGIES

I'm writing this note to apologize for some of the things you'll be inheriting when I go to my final reward. It's unlikely your father will have time to make amends then, so I'm sending my apologies now.

First off, I'm sorry about all this war and destruction that's running riot on the planet. We older Americans tried to put an end to war, but not enough foreigners and strangers would listen to us or take our orders. After that, what choice did we have but to send in soldiers?

At least we tried.

My apologies also for those crowded roads you and your families have to drive on. My generation would have built more public transportation but, in all honesty, we just didn't give a damn. We never travel by train, so why the hell should anyone else? Try not to hate us too much when you spend half your days driving to and from your jobs.

Come on, guys, honk if you still love your father!

And speaking about cars, I sincerely apologize for the mega-tonnage of planetary resources I seem to have consumed during my brief stay on Earth. Quite frankly, when I think about the tons of materials used to satisfy my individual desires—all the buying, spending and consuming it took to keep me feeling whole and happy—I find myself surprisingly without shame or remorse.

I'm sorry, but there it is! Your father is a selfish hungry pig and knows it and, apparently, revels in the raw honesty of it. He also loves driving around in big cars and buying thousands of unnecessary plastic items.

Hey, somebody has to.

And speaking of raw honesty, children, I want to apologize for the way I desecrated the land. Lord knows your father, as a responsible businessman, couldn't let all that good, solid earth remain undeveloped and glorious in its natural state. Much as I hated to, if I hadn't sliced up the land, ate up the woods and fields, and built wall-to-wall malls and sprawls, think of all the money I wouldn't have made…!

And then how sorry would I be?

Lastly, I want to apologize for leaving you a world much filthier, cruder, harsher—and far less friendly—than the one my father left me. It seems a shame people treat each other so roughly these days, or that values have been so perverted by money, false gods and distorted self images. Of course, if that's the price of admission to the RICHEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD, I want to see you kids first in line to buy tickets.

Just remember two things, children…First, I never promised you a perfect world. Second, I'm too selfish to help create one.

Oh, and did I apologize for that hole in the ozone layer…?


* * * * * * *

With all that's happening in Copenhagen these days, it seemed appropriate to share the above item from "How To Train A Rock" by Paul Steven Stone.

My Affair With Tiger

Face it, girls, you want to claw my eyes out, don’t you? Or whack me across my 36 DD’s with a golf club, am I right? Well don’t blame me if I’m young, gorgeous, full-breasted and obviously the cat’s meow. And don’t expect me to go after my favorite Top Cat by giving the media any of the tittle-tattle behind our torrid love match. There’s no ‘best three out of four’ here, girls. I am and always will be the best. Just ask Tiger.

Oh that’s right, Tiger isn’t talking. Except for that little phone message someone leaked to the rag mags. The one where he asked me to re-record my phone greeting so it’s a little more anonymous and a little less…well, sexy. Just in case his wife calls.

What’s wrong with a message where I state my name, hair color and unadulterated preference for billionaire celebrities? “C’mon, lighten up,” I told Tiger. “Besides, as far as your wife knows, it could be Hugh Hefner calling me, or some other rich celebrity; maybe even Brad Pitt.” You girls must have read in Intruder Magazine how he and Angelina are occupying separate bedrooms these days, whatever slim solace that provides poor Jennifer Anniston.

I always liked Jen better anyway.

But as far as Tiger and I go, we are soul mates, no question about it. Otherwise, why would I be the first girlfriend he calls whenever he’s in Boston and has an open hour to spare? Yes, I know, girls. An hour may not seem like much to you, but with Tiger and me it’s always been quality rather than quantity. Or, if I can be crude, length of rope rather than length of time, if you know what I mean.

Doesn’t God always seem to give bigger portions to those who have everything! Or is the word ‘proportions’? I’ll have to ask Tiger next time he’s in town.

Anyway, unlike some of you kiss-and-tell queens, I’m not saying a word about my affair with Tiger. Except to say, in my neck of the jungle, once we learn to hunt tigers, we then learn to be good little pussies. Gr-r-r-rr!

Tales Of The Book Part Eleven

"HOW TO TRAIN A ROCK"

The first thing one notices about rocks is they are essentially quiet creatures. Adverse to long discourses or extended bouts of conversation, they nevertheless are quite engaged in life. Constantly pondering the deepest and densest of life’s mysteries, thereby distracted to an apparent state of inertia, they are thought to be dull companions and highly unsuited to racquet sports or most other forms of physical activity.

Here at the International Rock Training Institute we have discovered, and proven, I believe, that rocks are far more capable and sentient than we humans generally believe. In fact, it’s the rocks’ very ability to conceal their considerable capabilities from the general population that underscores the scope of their hidden powers.

So, what to expect when you bring home one of these seemingly inanimate creatures as a pet?

Expect love. Lots of love. Pound for pound, there isn’t a more loving, open-hearted creature than a rock, though they can be fickle at times. Until recently it was thought rocks heated up in the sun because of the sun’s rays. After much research, we now know their rising temperatures are psycho-romantic reactions. Rocks tenderly exhibiting warm feelings for their cousin, the Sun. Similar to the way their temperatures will flare-up when they’re with their masters. Unfortunately, such displays of affection often go unnoticed, leading to a deep-seated fear of rejection and humiliation in most mature rocks.

As unfortunate as that may sound, this fear of rejection will prove an important tool in helping you train a rock of your own. A simple example will prove the point.

Let us pretend we are training a rock to keep us company while watching TV in the evenings. Right off, most of us would make the mistake of placing the rock on a nearby chair or perhaps on the TV itself.

Ask yourself, could you watch TV if you were sitting on top of the TV? Of course you couldn’t. And neither could a rock.

As for the chair, it demoralizes the intimacy-starved rock to be placed so far away from you. It derails the very trust and intimacy you were seeking to instill. Far better to place your rock on a nearby coffee table at the beginning of the training cycle. The idea being, of course, to gradually inch the rock closer to you on successive evenings. By tantalizing the trainee rock with your increasing proximity, you enflame its desire for closeness, and will soon find not only a docile rock sitting on your lap, but a companionable one as well.

The majority of rocks that visit the International Rock Training Institute come here for our “Good Companions” curriculum, which trains rocks for companionable relationships with all types of masters except toddlers, who need to be first trained not to eat rocks or stick them in their playmates’ eyes. We also offer a curriculum focused on “Security” for rocks being channeled into careers as Watchrocks or, possibly, projectiles.

Training a rock requires, well, rocklike patience. Much like human beings, rocks form impressions and psychological patterns in their early years that help shape their entire lives going forward. These impressionable “teen” rocks should be treated with great care and with great tolerance for their periodic mood swings and narcissistic bingeing. Should you discover you’re in possession of a teen rock rather than a mature one, don’t expect to win its trust anytime soon.

Unfortunately, we won’t have time this week to discuss “strays”, the wild, untamable rocks you find scattered most everywhere. Suffice it to say, many of the wild stories one hears about these highly independent rocks are true. They are unstable creatures to say the least. Unfriendly, sharply cunning and not very trustworthy. I would not want a stray rock living in my home, not even with my children fully grown and out of the house.

More about strays later on. For now, I’ll close this week’s “A Rock’s Throw” by inviting you, as always, to send me your questions about rocks and their proper training. Again, I must sternly request you do NOT send me the rocks themselves. And whoever threw that rock through the Institute’s lab window yesterday, I should warn you your rock has already conveyed your vital information to the police who are now on their way.

I forgot to mention, rocks are notoriously disloyal.


The above is the eponymous story from the collection, "How To Train A Rock" by Paul Steven Stone, available on Amazon.com. For more information, go to HowToTrainARock. com, or the author's site at PaulStevenStone.com.

Tales Of The Book Part Ten

DOUG HOLDER REVIEWS "HOW TO TRAIN A ROCK"


Doug Holder is a local (Somerville) poet and literary figure of great renown. Co-founder of The Bagel Bards, a literary community that meets (and eats) each Saturday morning at the Davis Square Au Bon Pain, Doug took a few minutes from his busy schedule to cast his reviewer's eye upon "How To Train A Rock". Note of full disclosure: Doug is a friend of the author.

Tales Of The Book Part Eight

CAN A STORY COLLECTION
HEAL THE SICK,
CURE THE AFLLICTED?

Tenneshaw, WI—Thousands of journeyers crowd this town’s small village square every afternoon at 2:44 where a natural phenomenon has turned into a daily spiritual event.

Two weeks ago, it was first noticed that the sun, positioned at this point in its day’s passage, sent a beam shining through the window at the HiRiser Bookstore which coalesced through the rippled thickness of the glass and fell on a book cover in a form reminiscent of the Madonna and Child.

The book cover it fell upon was called “How To Train A Rock” by Paul Steven Stone, a collection of Short Insights and Fiction Flights. Up until then, a book that had succeeded in remaining anonymous, undiscovered and unknown.

The first day of the phenomenon the Madonna and Child sunburst was noticed by a few passers by and mentioned in the Tenneshaw News ‘Around Town’ section. On the second day, there was such a large, mostly out of control, crowd that three people were crushed to death. Fortunately, two of the dead were brought back to life by being held against the bookstore window facing “How to Train A Rock”, the first of many recorded miracle cures.

From then on there were numerous tales of miraculous healings—cancers shriveled to nothing, broken backs made whole and straight, cripples dancing in the street, lepers with skin so clear teenagers would be envious. And, one or two resurrections of political careers, it was also rumored.

But then, not surprisingly, time moved on. And, as any astronomy student could tell you, the sun’s passage changes slightly everyday. So there should be little surprise that the quasi-religious effect of the light breaking through the glass at the critically precise moment of 2:44 PM would eventually cycle itself out of existence. And so it did. So that yesterday, two weeks- two days after the Madonna and Child first appeared, they were gone.

Today, a smaller crowd, maybe 15-25 hopeful souls, showed up and hung around the bookstore window where “How To Train A Rock” sits patiently waiting for someone to pick it up and take it home. They stare down at the book and wonder whether any of the Madonna and Child’s healing properties might have melted into the pages of this undiscovered jewel of a book filled with humor, wisdom and unexpected points of view?

“Nah!” the elder of the group decides, eventually leading the rest of the assembly away. “And besides," he says, asking no one in particular, "how would Paul Steven Stone even know how to train a rock?”

Can Paul Steven Stone Speak Spanish?

No Way, Jose! But for some strange reason I recently found myself on a Boston Hispanic cable TV show titled, "Fernando's Hideaway". Here the lovely Maricela Marrero acts as my guide and translator. Enjoy, amigos!


If you'd like to see the second half of the interview, check out 'Paul On "Fernando's Hideaway" Part 2' on YouTube.com.

Tales Of The Book Part Six

Tales of the Book Part Six
File Under: Reviews And Recommendations...?

DID HEMINGWAY POSTHUMOUSLY
ENDORSE ‘HOW TO TRAIN A ROCK’?

Kethchum, Idaho—This tiny hamlet where Ernest Hemingway spent his final days was abuzz with talk about ghosts and the deathless essence of great literary figures. Three times in as many days a copy of a certain book seems to suddenly materialize (spread open to page 56) on the long marble slab that marks Hemingway’s final resting place.

“I think it’s those darn teenagers,” Clinton Syrhousse declared indignantly, standing beside the Hemingway marker. Official Buffer of the Hemingway Stone, Syrrhousse has little patience with any suggestion that the great and long-dead storyteller would stoop to endorse a book of stories entitled ‘How To Train A Rock.’

“Maybe if it were called, ‘For Whom The Rock Rolls’ or ‘A Rock Also Rises’ or something with a little more guts like “The Rock Adams Stories…” Syrhousse left off with an ellipsis.

Paul Steven Stone, author of ‘How To Train A Rock’, wouldn’t give an opinion about the strange three-time appearance of his virtually unknown collection of funny, fantastical and heart-gripping stories. “I just hope I get credit for the three books on my Amazon sales,” Stone declared. “That’ll give me a good July.”

Tales Of The Book Part Five

Lo Galluccio Reviews "Refractions of Love"


'Refractions of Love' is the Second Rock Trick in "How To Train A Rock" by Paul Steven Stone, available on Amazon.com. To learn more about Lo Galluccio, Boston area poet, writer, songstress and avant garde performer, go to www.logalluccio.weebly.com or logalluccio@blogspot.com

Tales Of The Book Part Four

Timothy Gager Reviews 'Boys and Girls Together'



'Boys and Girls Together' is the Fifth Rock Trick in "How To Train A Rock" by Paul Steven Stone, available on Amazon.com.

A Thorn Among Two Roses

PAUL STEVEN STONE JOINS KIM ADRIAN AND DIANE LOCKWARD FOR CAMBRIDGE LITERARY EVE, JUNE 5, 2OO9

Author Paul Steven Stone will be reading from his work on Friday, June 5th, at the Dire Reader Series, offered at the Out Of The Blue art gallery, 106 Prospect Ave., Cambridge, MA. Joined by fiction writer Kim Adrian and poet Diane Lockward, Stone will be reading from "Or So It Seems", his innovative, comic romp of a novel, as well as from “How To Train A Rock” (just released!), his collection of short insights and fiction flights. Both books are published by Blind Elephant Press and available for purchase on Amazon.com.

Tales Of The Book Part One

NASA CALLS “HOW TO TRAIN A ROCK”
AN ESSENTIAL FOR ASTRONAUTS

Places Groundbreaking Book
In Astronaut’s Survival Kit

CAPE CANAVERAL—Officials at this NASA launch station recently declared “How To Train A Rock”, a collection of Short Insights and Fiction Flights written by Paul Steven Stone, an essential ingredient in the Astronaut’s Survival Kit. The kit, first developed by NASA in response to the fatiguing effects of ultra-boring space flights, is made up mostly of books and DVD’s.

“We added The Rock Training Book because it offered our astronauts something they could use to survive the long endless night of flying in space," explained Jeffrey Sloane, NASA public management director. “The book offers its readers fifty journeys into the world of creative expression. Fifty short ‘stories’ that shine a light on the essential madness of life’s enterprises. Light that illuminates laughter, insight and emotion in copious quantities.”

Argenon Fortnip, the space shuttle’s on-board chef, expressed a view that many at this major Florida tourist attraction share, “Hey kiss my a&%! It aint no none of your business nohow. If people on my flying f&*%ing ‘space diner’ want to read “How To Train A F&*%ing Rock” thats no none of your business neither.”

Lance Armstrong, NASA’s newest celebrity astronaut, was quoted as saying, “I don’t know what they’re talking about. Far as I can tell, this is just another sneaky way Paul Steven Stone is foisting his book “How To Train A Rock” onto a weary, unprotected population of habitual readers.

“I’ll prove it,” Armstrong went on to say. “Just watch. Somehow, before this news story ends, Paul Steven Stone will manage to mention that you can purchase “How To Train A Rock” on Amazon.com.”

"He might even suggest you can check it out at HowToTrainARock.com."

Buy My New Book And Help End Poverty

Well, my poverty anyway.

Truth is, you probably won’t help anyone but yourself when you buy and read “How To Train A Rock”, assuming you like to laugh and be entertained. I didn’t mean to mislead you; something just came over me. That's what happens when you spend most of your adult life writing advertisements.

But don’t let my misguided sense of salesmanship stop you from buying the book, because somewhere inside you’ll find a mystery word that could win you a midnight balloon ride with Paris Hilton and Britney Spears.

There I go again! That’s not true. You will encounter Paris and Britney, but only in one of my humorous commentaries. The bald fact is you won’t make friends with celebrities, save money, win a prize, improve your social standing or enjoy the benefits of space-age technology when you buy "How To Train A Rock". What you will enjoy are 50 short-short stories, many hilarious, some profound, all uniquely creative.

So do yourself a favor and order “How To Train A Rock” today. You may not end poverty but I promise you’ll be delighted!

Plus, for a limited time, you could win a luxury vacation for two to Somalia.


You may recognize this variation on a theme if you've read my earlier postings. I like to play with 'truth in advertising', and yes that is an oxymoronic phrase. So hopefully you'll indulge me a few of these playful sales messages as I struggle to break into double digit sales of my new book, "How To Train A Rock". Which, if I haven't mentioned it yet, can be purchased on Amazon.com.