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The High Road Home (Excerpt from "SCHLEP" by d'Philip Chalmers)

There’s an exit off of the Interstate just past Grand Island, Nebraska where there is nothing there. You get off the not very busy Interstate and there is just a long, lonely road that
goes into the deep dark night to the north and south. We made a right, heading
south, and drove for a little while until we came to a clearing next to the
road where there was a picnic table. We pulled into the clearing and I turned
Betty off; without Betty’s headlights we are in complete and utter darkness.


The night is shadowy, we are swallowed whole in a black hole on the side of the road. We get out of Betty, grab a blanket and find a soft tuft of grass under a tree
under the big Nebraska
night sky. Hundreds of thousands of stars shining over head, not a sliver of
the moon to be found, the only other light was that of our love which at that
moment was burning very hot and bright.


Inside the glow of our passion, the tender tentacles of a new and growing seed is cast unto the mighty universe. The Nebraska
night breeze balmy and rustling through the trees and fields of an endless sea
of grass that sways and sings a hushed, secret lullaby, in the dark, between
the seams of what was real and what was a dream. Waves of joy come drifting
into our open nest, collecting dust and sweetly kissed the tenderness of her
supple breast. It wipes away the loneliness and melodically caresses the
simplest of what our love is and what it will forever become. Our bodies,
disengaged from our souls; our souls tightly entwined in the divine skies of
that dark Nebraska
universe.


We tumble and touch, so gentle so much a dance of flesh and a song sung in silent stares, eye to eye, windows of the soul we deeply reach where no one has gone before
and then we boldly go some more. Fit together tightly, we meet each other’s
thrust with groans and grunts of pure carnal lust until we must exclaim aloud,
in the deep sea of grass, like two stray cats making love, we shout out our
love light and let it shine it on bright; our last moment to the next, each on
the brink of the edge of a cliff. If we let go, we lose control and roll into
the canyon, a free falling feeling stops me as she madly grabs on my ass and
keeps calling me daddy, daddy, oh daddy…


There’s something inside of me when this passion erupts, something I’ve had deep inside and buried for a very long time. It’s some kind of fire, an energy that I had
when I wore a younger man’s clothes. Yet now, naked in the tall grass, I find
this forgotten fire, this explosion of energy that I had when I was nineteen.
It fills my body with adrenaline and my brain with dopamine. It brings me
visions and serves the better of angels inside of me. It reminds me of the
notion that my emotions are bold and all consuming. Looming in the secret folds
of her most delicate flower, I find answers to questions I never asked. Across
her heavenly breast I am pressed to find the state of mind to speak in words, I
talk in forced breath grunts.


There’s something that happens when we touch, something electric and cosmic, like a rocket engine roaring it’s much too powerful for one of us alone; only together
can we weather the storm of intensity in this randomness. Our bodies are the
universe, my love the ship that breaks through the dawn of her veil and
illuminates our shadows in the blackest of Nebraska nights. In the fastest of moments,
the quickest of heartbeats, skipping and stopping and starting and rocking
until we reach the apex of heaven where we spread our celestial wings and fly
free as a bird; this is real love.


Like lovers have done since the dawn of the motion picture age, like two characters from a 1950’s Billy Wilder film, we have a smoke. Ah but not of the tobacco variety,
for neither of us are slaves to the corporate driven nicotine loco-motive,
indeed we share a small joint of weed. Tightly wound, perfectly rolled by the
slender fingers on the bare thighs of a Zuni Princess, my love and I take turns
and get high. The fine finesse of her loveliness comes alive in my mind’s eye
while my mind flows like sweet wine. Pinching the tip of the spliff, our
pooched up fingers kiss as we pass the doobie and make groovy hisses or plumes
of exhaling smoke that envelopes our space and makes our faces shine with
perma-smiled grins.


Seeing the condition our condition was in, it didn’t seem like a time or place to begin anything more than a short restful dream. On the soft tuft of grass, under the
sprawl of a mighty oak, we finished our smoke and slowly slipped asleep. Not a
deep and long rest, just deep enough to dream and feel the cool breezes that
wash through the tall sea of grass. We would remain there, holding one another
closely, tight, naked, in the Nebraska
night for several hours before we would wake and get back on the road again.
Then we would drive, I would drive and Josie would sleep as we raced through
the rest of the state feeling great and powerful and strong and true. I told
you, she does something to me I just can’t explain.


We’re in a truck stop, parked in the furthest spot from the door of the store and I’m sipping coffee and writing in this journal once more. Josie, bless her Native
heart, is sound asleep in Betty; Betty looks beat and tired, she’s ready for a
rest. This may be the last time I write on this sojourn, the plan is to press
on all the way through Iowa Illinois
until we reach home. I give us an ETA of sundown. It’s been a long, strange
trip and it ain’t over yet!


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


This is an excerpt from Chapter 17 (“The High Road Home”) from “SCHLEP”, the novel I recently finished. I am posting it because I’m trying to push this book harder
so I can reach an expanded distribution network which would include big box
retailers like B&N and Borders; to reach this goal I need to sell about 50
more books before September 1st and I will qualify to be listed in
the available on-line books. This means that you (or any consumer) could walk
into their local Barnes&Nobles and ask for my book, “SCHLEP” by name.
Chances are it won’t be on the shelf, but they could order it for you. This is
a huge step to take and one I really need to reach out and seek help from
others to attain. I need to sell 50 copies of my book during this month and I’m
going to try to do anything to reach this goal! I am going to do some readings
this month, I have to…I am going to read at the open mic night thing at
Lamplighter’s Inn (a local pub), I am going to create a youtube reading to try
and use virally via Facebook, myspace and other Social Media marketing
channels.


I recently attended a networking meeting of the local chapter of The Writing Mafia where it was discussed that a book release party is a great way to create both sales and buzz about one’s book, so that too is
something that I want to try and make happen for this month. I am also
interested in breaking into the European market (because 60% of all books
bought in Europe are self published) and
appealing to the aficionados of the infamous Route 66 (because that is a large
part of “SCHLEP”). I am not having much luck so far finding alternative funding
sources to promote the book, so again, it remains a shoestring (more like a
kite string) budget! Another idea I got from the networking meeting was the
very act of getting out and networking more. I sold a book that night, I didn’t
plan on it but it was a welcomed surprise when one of the other group members
asked to buy my book! That got me thinking about going to more of these (and
other) kinds of networking meetings. I could probably sell a few more books
doing those kinds of meetings and if I were to develop some kind of
presentation about the self publishing process, something else I could almost
“perform”, I might be able to position myself available to a wider network of
networking opportunities.


Lastly, one the things I have been reminding myself about is that notion that this book of mine, “SCHLEP” was created and intended to attract the attention of a Hollywood representation for myself. I am looking to
establish my contacts and networks to include people in the film and
entertainment industry. I want to sell copies of the book, certainly, I want to
reach as wide an audience as I can with this novel. But just as importantly, I
want to find the right agent or person who will help me pimp my other ideas,
screenplays, manuscripts and whatnot to the powers that be; “SCHLEP” is merely
a key to the lock on the gates of my imagination. I remind myself of this
because it bolsters my ego, helps me fend off the negative vibes and I feel
better about all the stuff I “dumped” into this book. I say “dumped” because I
used a lot of different sources, niche ideas and writing styles to create the
book. In creating “SCHLEP” I was trying to show off everything I have, in
several different “voices” all with the intention of finding that one, two or
three people who will recognize my talents and skills; in hope they would
believe in my abilities enough to support my ambition to achieve acclaim as an
artist. But even so, it only helps towards my goals to have as many people as I
can buy this book which would help me reach my dream.


If you would like to buy a copy of my book, “SCHLEP” and get an autographed copy, please visit my website at www.dphilipchalmers.net or find it on amazon.com, lulu.com or other on-line retailers.




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