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Blogging is dead, long live blogging? Does that mean boomerpdx is dead, too?


All hail the podcast? Now I need a boomerpdx podcast?

Books were called dead not too long ago, but they refused to go quietly. What, I’ve got to write a book to support books and reading?

Reading was dying, but didn’t quite get the last nail before everyone started texting and ignoring phone calls.

If it’s important enough, write it down.

Which brings me to writing, the written word, the writer.

I’ve heard the bugaboo about writers. You have too. Since we all know the alphabet we could all be writers. And except for the writing part, this is correct.

Any high school graduate could be a writer. Same with college grad, except more debt and no time to write.

Time is a huge factor.

“I want to write a book when I retire, when I have time.”

“I’ve got a great book idea, but no time.”

“Let me tell you about a book I want to write. Got a minute?”

You’ve heard the same thing, I’ve heard the same thing. I’ve said the same thing more than once. Got a minute? Good.

Here’s a book idea. No, really.

A fat man gets old and gets neck cancer. Intrigued so far? How fat is this fat man? Something in this ball park:

Maybe, eh, two seventy or so? Lots of stuff going down that neck.

The after cancer scale dipped to one ninety five at the lowest. So I dropped about seventy pounds, give or take, in a month and a half or so of chemo and radiation. No one in their right mind recommends this for weight loss.

It would have been less if I had a feeding tube drilled into my gut. As you can see it’s an easy target. But I didn’t and suffered ‘tube remorse.’ Whether it’s a real thing or not, I had it, but not enough to get fitted for a nose tube.

It was either learn to gag down whatever I could, or the noser. I took the time to eat and drink, starting with an hour to sip down an eight ounce glass of water.

Let me refer you back to the top pic. I was a fat man who chugged beer as a hobby. Could you guess? I thought of those days while I sipped and swallowed water with exaggerated mechanics to avoid choking. But I still did now and then.

My book follows the goofy antics that come with any medical care. People saying things hilariously funny on accident, verbal abusers getting verbally abused for their effort, life and death doctors turning into coaches, nurses into cheerleaders. Or maybe it was just me.

Throughout it all a man and a woman looked straight into their planned shared future without blinking. Okay, there was plenty of blinking. It’s like the older couple I met in the hospital.

“The first time he had cancer we told everyone. This time we’re not.”

Blink, blink, blink.

If you know someone who knows someone, you know, send them over.

To New Readers In California

First of all, I’m tickled to see so many of you showing up on boomerpdx. Maybe I should wait to ask, but … maybe not?

I know California’s big with lots of people, but Ben Affleck is a pretty big deal, so I figure one of you know him, or know someone who knows him.

Since boomerpdx is a quality blog, I’m going to ask right here:

Red Rover, Red Rover,

Send Ben Affleck right over.

Here’s the deal, I’ve written a movie script, had it vetted, executed the notes from three different professional evaluations, and it’s waiting.

But why Ben Affleck?

It has elements or WWII, elements of super hero-dom, family drama, blinding love in a combat zone, huge money, and the birth of Silicon Valley.

So in a way it’s everything Ben’s done, and been in, all wrapped into one movie. He’s the guy for this, and there’s more:

Tom Hanks has had two wives and two kids with each. Think of how they’ll see their had in forty years, how they’ll feel looking back.

Ben, you’ve done great work. You know you’ve done great work, the Academy knows you’ve done great work.

Think of the great stars who’ve transcended the medium. Tom Hanks is one of them. He’s the guy welcoming guests to the WWII Museum in New Orleans. Did you know that?

My sceenplay, working title ‘Flying Home’, is a story about redemption and trust and believing better days come after the storm. And who knows the storm better than you?

You like stories about forgotten people stepping up in unexpected ways? Didn’t you want to be Will in Good Will Hunting? Flying Home has a Will-like character.

Did you want to be the bad guy in The Accountant? You’ll find a cousin in Flying Home.

More than anything else, Flying Home is about the power of love overcoming insurmountable odds. Just like you do, Ben.

Flying Home is your new ride, man.

Who’s Dead Now

Readers are alive, writers are alive, and mix the two for best results.

Forty states hit does not a dead blog make.

A hundred and fifty cities marked on the map make America look like it’s got the pox, some kind of pox, maybe the boomerpdx pox.

This is a contagion to spread. Book idea, script pitch, you’re up.

About David Gillaspie

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