Snapshots from Eldredge

The life and writings of TJ Alexian


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A Writer’s Life with B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree T.J. Alexian

Layered Pages

Ted Mitchell BRAG

I’d like to welcome back B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree T.J. Alexian to talk with me a little about his writing. T.J. lives in Attleboro, Massachusetts in a renovated green Victorian, along with seven ghosts and his long-time (and long-suffering) partner. He also has three kids and one spiritual kid, and their stories and their spirit form the heart and soul of his novel, Pictures of You. A profiled author in the Writer’s Digest book Writer with a Day Job and an award-winning communications specialist, Pictures of You is Alexian’s first novel, although he has two more being prepared for distribution: The Late Night Show and Confessions of a Diva Rotundo.

T.J., Why do you write?

Compulsion? Insomnia? Not enough love as a child?

That all may be true, but I can’t think of a better release to have. I’ve always felt that people who love to write possess the ability to…

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Burglar proofed.

So, I’m hanging on the porch of Green Victoria this week-end. I’m sitting on the couch, being lazy, reading “Turn of the Screw” (lovely Memorial Day week-end reading), relaxing. Suddenly I hear a scampering and look up to see THIS…

cat climb

…which turns into THIS…

cat climbed

Hmm. Guess we we don’t need a house alarm any more. All we need is Ping, waiting to pounce…

 


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Distractify

Last night I finished Amy Poehler’s book “Yes Please,” and I was especially amused by the final chapter in the book, entitled “The Robots will kill us all,” where she basically concludes that “this internet thing has been a disaster.”

I know exactly what she’s talking about.

Her point was that she used to be the sort of person who swore she would never have a cell phone, but now it’s by her side constantly and a perpetual distraction. She discussed how she couldn’t get through even writing the first paragraph of the chapter without being distracted by 5,000 different things.

I think everyone can relate, and I’m not sure it’s made the world a better place. Just writing those three paragraphs I had the exact same experience. I have one guy on a social app that keeps pinging me every five seconds. My Facebook is popping up with this or that. I have 11 unread emails in my personal account (most of that probably crap) and while it used to be that I would keep my in-box properly maintained, I have stuff I haven’t read that I probably should have that stretches back months. There’s just too much content. Too much. I don’t care any more.

And in addition to being distracting, I’m here to tell you, the user interface experience is just awful. I literally hate my iPhone. I wish I could have anything…anything! besides it. A few weeks ago I made the purchase of my song in 1776 so I could sing it in the shower. Although iTunes says it was downloaded, it’s nowhere to be found in my Music folder. If I try playing the song on YouTube, it usually stops playing one minute into the song and I have to turn the shower off and try to get it going again. Which it will do, for twenty more seconds. I only wanted to play one song in my shower. A CD would have been way more dependable.

Last night, Corb and Theo and I wanted to watch an episode of Once Upon a Time. We have Chromecast. Corb purchased the show through Amazon. We tried to play it (we’ve done it successfully in the past). One hour later, owing to a variety of glitches, we were still unable to view it. Connection problems. Must upgrade to Amazon Prime. Must download new app. Looks like Chromecast isn’t interfacing with Amazon well. Or maybe it’s Comcast? A DVD would have been far easier.

And God forbid you need service! Having to deal with places like AT&T or Apple is absolute torture. Either you stay on the phone for hours at a time, go online for iffy service, or travel out of your way to a store, where they are by design understaffed and constantly trying to upsell you stuff. So you wait for hours. All they care about is selling. The service is incidental.

For the past few weeks my son has been having trouble with his iPhone. He’s having trouble getting it to charge. I kind of put off dealing with it, because I knew it was going to be torture having it taken care of, but finally I took him to AT&T at the local mall to take a look at it. It’s apparently the regional headquarters. There were two guys in the store equipped to handle everyone who came in. Just two! Fortunately, we only had to wait for about fifteen minutes to be looked. The guy was nice enough, and looked at the phone, and said, “Yep, there’s a problem with the way this is charging. You definitely need to get this fixed. You’ve had it for less than a year so Apple should replace it. All you need to do is go to your Apple store and they should replace it.”

Only go? The closest Apple store (no I won’t buy your stinking AppleWatch) is in Providence. Never mind that I pay AT&T $400 a month and they are pushing me off to someone else without a warm transfer or anything. And fortunately, I had the sense to call to see if I could get in that night. When I called, rather than they trying to talk to me, they tried to push me to a web site for an appointment. Okay, fine. I let them push a link to my phone. But of course, what I was calling about was not an option, because rather than simply give me the option to make an appointment, they tried to figure out why I wanted an appointment in the first place. The closest I could get to identifying the problem was “hardware problem.” But when I selected that option, they tried to run a diagnostic rather than letting me schedule a simple appointment.

Frustrated, I called back. Just kept hitting zero this time. Totally bypassed the frustrating computer voice. Finally, I got a human. The minute she found out what I wanted (after trying to upsell me an Apple watch) she had no real interest in helping out. It didn’t involve a sale, you see. “Well, you can come tonight, but we probably won’t be able to help you out between store hours.” It was six o’clock.

“When can I schedule an appointment?” I asked.

“Friday night?” It was a Tuesday. “Or, you could just come in during the day, and wait. Not at night, though.” Oh, so I have to take time out of work for this. How helpful.

Theo couldn’t do Friday night. I scheduled an appointment for Monday. I am sure it will be absolute torture. There is no way in hell I will be buying an Apple Watch, no matter how much they try to push it on me. I am so dreading this.

My point being, I’m just not sure we’re in a better place than we were even ten years ago. Social technology has not made life better, it’s made life more distracted, less convenient, more isolated, and keeps people from really focusing on living life.

Corb and I keep saying we are going to just set aside our phones for a set period of time. Try to live distraction free. Try not to respond to the beeps and the whirrs and the alerts. Will it help restore our sanity? We’ve only tried it for a few hours on a week-end now and then, but I think we are ready to take the big plunge: go phone free for a whole day. Maybe a whole week-end!

It’s time for a change. I am tired of perpetual distraction and having an app for everything. It’s not helping any more. I’m not sure it ever really did. Amy Poehler is right: the Robots will kill us all.


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Planting seeds

Corb and I spent the afternoon working on the yard. So much to do after the long winter…beds to rake through, trees to prune, transformations to undergo. We…or should I say Corb?…have a lot of plans to transform the backyard from “drab to fab”!

On a similar note, the other big thing I did this week-end was to continue edits on Late Night Show. I’m at chapter 21 and have about 120 pages left to go. In a similar way, I think editing this book has been like transforming the yard. Visualizing the world around me, attacking those verb tenses, digging up stale images and planting in their place new, interesting ways to bring the story to life.

Hopefully the book, like the back yard, will go from “drab to fab” by summer. Only in this case, I can’t rely on Corb’s creative brilliance to win the day…this landscape is something that’s entirely of my own creation. And doing it I am! Kami’s sick little world is coming to life before my eyes.


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Aspire.

This morning, as I was getting into my car at Stop & Shop, this rather disheveled looking guy called out to me. As I stopped, car door open, he rode up to my car on his bike. “Would you have any interest in a soft top Eddie Bauer cooler?” he asked, unhooking the item from his bike and trying to hand it over to me.

I have to confess, I hate being approached about things like this. My immediate reaction is to run away. It doesn’t matter what it is, but it seems to be uniquely reserved for people asking for donations or trying to sell me stuff. Especially the latter. I have an especial hatred right now for the sales people they allow to infest Best Buy, trying to get you to change your internet provider to that shitty DirectTV. Sales people should be there to assist you, not try to upsell you anything. Every time I get approached I start to go off, so much that Corb has to literally push me away before I say anything too obnoxious. I know, they are only doing their job. I am not angry at them, I am angry at Best Buy for allowing them to do it. Which is why, incidentally, I am currently boycotting Best Buy.

Anyway, I digress. The minute he asked this, I did what I always do. I moved away. “No, thank you,” I said, quietly and politely, but still, in a way that was firm, with my head lowered. I immediately started to close my car door.

“You sure?” he asked, moving his soft top Eddie Bauer cooler back to behind his bike.

“No thank you” I repeated in the same tone and closed the door.

He left. I drove off. But still, this image lingered in my head. Him, on his bike. I think it was the way he said “soft top Eddie Bauer cooler” that bothered me. It had been so precise, so rehearsed.

Why was he approaching me about this? Was it perfectly innocent? Was he indeed just looking to give me, out of the kindness of his heart, a soft top Eddie Bauer cooler? Why would he be doing something like that? Was it some kind of homeless thing, like the people who stand outside of malls with increasing frequency these days, looking for a donation? (I am positive that is staged, by the way, and that’s not without precedent. Back in the 1800s, the poor and indigent were put to work shoveling horse crap off the streets, until they protested the demeaning work. Look it up, it’s true.) What was his story?

And what is it about me that shut down the way I did? Slam. Walls come down. Why am I like that? Would it kill me to keep a five or something in my wallet, for situations like that, instead of my George Castanza-like wallet spilling to the brim with receipts and plastic and nothing else? Isn’t there something I can do to be better than I am?

Anyway, I just made a donation of $20 to my favorite homeless shelter, Crossroads of Rhode Island. It surely will not make me a better person or help me on the path to the countless hours of therapy that I so clearly need. But, maybe it will help someone in some small way. And maybe, it’s a reminder to stop and think..and aspire higher.


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Free on KDP: Pick up Pictures of You free for three days starting 4/6!

CellarStairs_v4b

Starting on Monday, I’m pleased to announce I’m making Pictures of You free for three days as a KDP download. I figured it was a good way to build some excitement, especially with the new book halfway there when it comes to editing! (In other words, look out for Late Night Show by year end!)

For those of you who haven’t picked up a copy of Pictures, here’s what it’s all about:

A story of a haunting. Of a memory that lingers. Of voices that hide in the shadows.

Video geek Ashes16 discovers disturbing videos popping up on her YouTube account, bringing back memories of her brother’s grisly death. What happens when she finally understands their meaning is the chilling secret behind Pictures of You. Discover what’s been called a “supernatural thriller with a real heart and soul that helps carry this work high above many of its contemporaries.”

Get it now! And if you do, drop me a line and let me know what you think!


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Gurgle.

Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle.

Funny noise. It’s the Sunday after we returned home from Salem, and I’ve been hearing it all day long. What could it be, I wondered? Occasionally.

Although I honestly didn’t think to much about it that often. It was a beautiful day and the sun was out and the weather FINALLY starting to heat up. St. Frankie was actually able to be seen and I was actually thinking about taking some of the trash bags that had been hidden in our basement for a few weeks. Ever since our last big party, I’m embarrassed to say. I was also thinking about maybe finally cleaning out the disgusting kitty litter boxes that have been festering in the cellar for god knows how long.

After I finished cleaning the kitchen, I headed to the cellar stairs to take care of my next chores for the day. Happily whistling a little tune, I turned the corner, turned on the lights downstairs, and that’s when I encountered THIS:

Oh shit. So that’s what that gurgling noise was.

“CORB!!!!”

###

Actually, that photo was taken hours later. The water was four times that height when I discovered the flooding. The kitty litter boxes were floating in the water like little gondolas and most of the boxes were sitting on the ground. Soaking.

Frantically, Corb and I waded through the water, trying to figure out where the water leak was coming from. When we reached the far end of the basement, we finally discovered the source: the sump pump was spewing out water at an alarming rate. Thinking fast, Corb unplugged the pump. The spewing stopped.

We raced to the local hardware department and purchased a back-up sump pump. Hooked it up and started draining the moat right away. Later that night, the basement was finally dry-ish again and we were able to tromp through the basement. The floor was digusting. A bag of kitty litter had ripped open and half of the floor was covered in a sticky, muddy film.

Still, we had no idea why the sump pump had mis-fired the way it had. All we knew was that every time we turned it on, water started pouring out from a pipe about three feet above the hole. So, we decided to keep the back-up running and call a plumber in the morning.

That night, I woke up around four. Something felt wrong to me. I had been thinking about the sump pump all night long.

I went downstairs and listened.

I didn’t hear anything. That wasn’t good. I ran to the cellar. Sure enough, the hose to the back-up sump pump had disconnected during the night. The cellar was a swamp again. Quickly, I reconnected the hose and tried to go back to sleep. But first, I called Roto Rooter and made an appointment for the morning.

Corb didn’t even know what had happened.

Around noon, the plumber came by. Turns out, it appears that the PVC piping connected to the sump pump had frozen, causing a back-up. As a result, a cap had burst. All the guy had to do was seal and replace the cap, an item that only cost about ten dollars. We could have done it ourselves, if we had known what the hell we were doing.

A simply solution to a big pain-in-the-ass problem. The only problem now: cleaning up the mess that had been left behind.