Killer Commute is now available on Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Killer-Commute-Michael-Robert-Gordon-ebook/dp/B00M4RQU0G%3FSubscriptionId%3DAKIAILSHYYTFIVPWUY6Q%26tag%3Dduckduckgo-d-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB00M4RQU0G

My Novel Killer Commute will be published by Monk Press

7/25/14

You may recall my novel was published by Champagne Books a couple of years ago. After getting it back and making the necessary edits and the needed tightening; the novel is much better than before.  Once it's available I will post a link. For now here is the link to Monk Press.

http://monkpress-mike.blogspot.com/

I grew old with REM

The Beatles broke up in 1971, we sat in the back seat without seat belts, and Ma was driving my dad’s 1969 faint yellow Chevy Nova on Jericho Turnpike in Huntington. The news broke that the band was calling it quits. Why?
Yesterday by habit, I checked Twitter and saw the NPR release after REM’s…calling it quits. I had to tell Ali and I dreaded it. It’s been a tough week, on Monday the doctors found a near fatal blood clot in her lung. She’s doing fine, had therapy today. On Tuesday night she told me this week sucked and yesterday, Wednesday, her favorite band breaks up.
The first time I saw REM was back in 1983 on MTV’s 120 minutes, the song was Radio Free Europe. It was a black and white and a rare appearance from Reverend Finster made the video mythical. In Rolling Stone there was a small piece on them, the fact they came from the same town as the B-52’s Athens GA. I walked more than ten miles to buy the IRS album, Murmur and their music changed my life. The lyrics, whatever martyr misconstrue meant and 9-9, Talk About the Passion, the album was not just one song which I heard before, it was the whole product. Eventually I saw them as one of the opening acts for The Police at Shea Stadium on August 18 that year. I remember the rain and hiding under a tarp in the outfield and clearly being one of the few in the crowd who knew the music. I grew up with the band. Eventually interviewing them for the high school radio station and seeing them perform at a local roller skating rink, the beacon, Nassau coliseum, Radio City Music Hall, Carnegie Hall, Madison Square Garden, and up in Massachusetts on their last tour. Last night Ali and I were discussing the fact we may never see the band again, but we have so many memories, of meeting the band back stage at Jones Beach and outside Carnegie Hall. I even wrote a novel using the lyrics from Mr. Richards and dedicated Killer Commute to the old dinosaurs from Athens. We passed our love of the band to our children who know their music as well as we do. We made the trip to Athens and have bought the rare and limited editions. We have a used drum head from Bill Berry from the Monster tour. We have all of these things, but the music will live on. Thank you for being together as long as you had, I can say we grew old together. I wish them the best in their own ambitions, and I hope there will be some benefit concerts in the future. There has to be more shows…right? I guess I can hope. On a personal level, the music has inspired our lives, as my wife beats cancer their song. Walk Unafraid is our anthem.

Thank you for reading this

Meeting Michael Stipe, Patty Smith is my hero, Tibet House 2011

Last Thursday I ate my dinner at the Cracker Barrel in Trevose, PA. After I finished I headed up to NYC to meet Ali and Amanda and Emma Tess at Carnegie Hall. The show began at 7:30 and I just made it to my seat as Robert Thurman walked on the stage and spoke about Tibet House, it was a benefit concert for the foundation.
Tibet House US is dedicated to preserving Tibet’s unique culture at a time when it is confronted with extinction on its own soil. By presenting Tibetan civilization and its profound wisdom, beauty, and special art of freedom to the people of the world, we hope to inspire others to join the effort to protect and save it.

Tibet House US is part of a worldwide network of Tibetan institutions committed to ensuring that the light of the Tibetan spirit never disappears from the face of this earth.
Our seats were up at the top balcony, but the acoustics in the auditorium are perfect. The ornate ceiling, stucco walls with gold trims were pristine. After a blessing for a prosperous new year by a group of monks, the performers hit the stage. The reason we attended was to see Michael Stipe, but before he sung, Patty Smith recited a haunting Rimbaud poem as her daughter played piano and her friend on the xylophone. All of the performers were incredible, from Jesse McCartney, Taj Mahal, Angelique Kidjo, The Roots, Flaming Lips, who were the most excited to be on the stage. I loved the fact Philip Glass plays and MC's the show. We're blessed to have all of these gifted artists on the same stage.

It was a good night. After the show,I had an opportunity to give Michael a copy of Killer Commute. Before I saw him, I signed the book and scribbled in frozen black ink my email address. A minute later he bolts out the stage door and headed back to the waiting car as fast as possible. Shit, he ain’t talking to a little crowd waiting. Signs a few things, CDS…some guy walks next to him and holds up a camera to get them in the shot, flash. He signed the copy of Killer Commute as he kept walking - quickly. I explained, it was his copy, and he looked up, “oh, I thought you wanted me to sign it. Thank you.” He was gone, I didn’t get the full attention, I felt like I was in a rush…my heart was racing. Hey Michael, this is my novel. I used lyrics from Mr. Richards…scribbles his name…I held it as he walked on and caught myself…no, I need to give him the book instead of holding it! Mission accomplished. Thank you.

Charles Bukowski edits one of my poems

So what was it like to have Charles Bukowski edit one of my poems? How did it happen? These are the questions when my secret gets out. It’s not something I usually share, but I thought it would be a good blog entry.
I didn’t know who Charles Bukowski was until a fellow student in my writing class at Purchase College said my work reminded him of Buk’s. I forget the student’s name, but he looked like a dark creature with faded scars on his face, sad warped eyes and banged up, stained yellow teeth. He wanted me to write for his local paper, but I had heard somewhere that journalism ruined many fiction writers. Not interested I declared! What an ignorant twit I was…and still am in some ways. Anyway, I wasn’t sure how to take the comparison to Bukowski. Another student said my work reminded her of a David Lynch film. What? But I read up on Buk and learned he was a poet as well. I found a used copy of Tales of Ordinary Madness, which is a collection of his shorts. The original title, something about erections… would cause all of his works to be banned from my parent’s house. I was not impressed and to be honest, I was a little insulted to be compared to him. Buk was a stark difference to what I then considered literature: John Steinbeck, Hemingway, Faulkner & Ian Flemming. Not sure why I added Ian, but it gives you an idea of where my mind was. Oh, to be ignorant. I searched for his poetry at the book stores and couldn’t find any, so I figured he wasn’t a good poet till I came across one of his poems in an English lit text book. I liked the poem, and if I remember it was about his fondness for the color yellow. Years ago there was a thick book in the Port Jefferson library which included the addresses of American authors. It gave a brief summary and a bio. Bukowski was born in Germany and I imagined his struggles with the English language and assumed he had an accent. I wrote a letter to Buk asking who influenced his work and if he would read my poems. I included three poems I had scribbled that weekend in pencil and sent them off.
He wrote back. I can still see the hand written envelope and then opening up the letter on blue pages. He said he received many letters just like mine. “I’m too hung over to write the good stuff so I respond to yours.” And he mentioned something I wrote in my letter, “luckily you like Tolstoy, I found him to be a bore.” He did edit one of the poems. “Your poem needs tightening it should read…” I will find the letter and make a copy and attach it to this entry in the near future. His influences, Li Po, Fante (I had heard of neither) Dostoevsky…and some others.
After the first letter there were a couple of others. I read more of his works and found books of his poetry and read some of his short story collections. I sent him copies of the comic books he did with R Crumb which he signed and mailed back. Another time, I found a picture in a lit magazine of him sitting in his office at his desk; radio against the wall, an electric typewriter with stiff keys waiting to be struck and I imagined his German accent whispering to the photographer, hurry up and take the fuchin ‘ shot. After he passed, Black Sparrow published some books of his letters. I had the opportunity to speak to John Martin, the publisher. When I mentioned the letter, he said it was rare, for the fact that Buk had edited the poem and I should hold onto it, but he could not use the letter.
I need to find the letter.
Tell you what, if you’re interested in reading one of my shorts and a poem, I will send them to you. Send me an email and let me know after you read the work if I still write like Buk.
trainwriter@gmail.com
If you’re truly courageous, than please buy a copy of my novel, Killer Commute on Champagne Books
www.Champagnebooks.com

The Baseball Project at Maxwells

I know this is more than a week late, but this weekend I have every intention to write some ditties. These will include, the interview with Finn on WUSB, travelling to Fargo, North Dakota, and the joy and peace of running.
The Baseball Project came to Maxwell’s, Hoboken NJ last week. This time the lineup included Mike Mills from REM instead of Peter Buck on bass. It was the first time I saw a show there, but the spot has a history in alt, garage music. The stage is very small, as well as the venue. At most two hundred people could fit in there, but that night the BP had close to a hundred.
My goal that night was to give Mike Mills a Killer Commute Postcard and to discuss the fact I used lyrics from their song, MR Richards. As Erik and I walked in Mike Mills was ahead of us. I approached the man, and spoke into his right ear as the opening band was playing. He didn’t seem to believe me, and a little later when he was attempting to buy a glass of wine at the bar, I walked up and paid the tab and he said, “I noticed your name is not on the card.” It’s in very small type in the cover, and I introduced myself. He read the blurb on the back and said he’d buy a copy. Mike as well as the rest of the band is real down to earth and very gracious. After they played we took this picture together.
What about the show? They were a little off on the first song which was released that week, Triple Crown…but once they played Long Before my Time, and Ted Fucking Williams, they were on. In fact they played the whole album and kept on coming out for encores. With Mills, the harmonies between him and Scott were close to perfect, since they’ve worked so well together for all of these years.

After the show I spoke to Linda for a couple of minutes, and she said Mike filled in, and is a bigger baseball fan than Buck. Buck is playing with Tired Pony and they’re due to play in New York in October, first US show and Ali and I are there. Linda said she was going and would see us there.
REM news as per Scott, no tour to support the new album! It sounds like a cross between Accelerate and Reveal.

The first day of summer vacation

It’s a quarter after nine at night, fireworks are popping in the sky somewhere over a house, above curious faces, and then they crack and die. It’s quick. The train is pulling into the station. The kids are watching a movie on Disney and I can hear the sparkling twinkle of a magic wand. It’s funny. It’s hot and humid though a breeze drifts through the screens. It’s quiet for the most part. No parties in the house across the street. It’s a good night to sleep.
Next week, Killer Commute is released and I’m in the middle of the ocean. Next week, will begin the reports on sales that eventually will build up. Next week begins a new stage in this life.

Promotion with a purpose

It’s a new year. Not only that, but it’s a new decade. We can shake off the…what would you call the last decade – darn it’s not like the sixties or the seventies. The two thousands? And now getting into the tens and elevens and such. I made a promise to myself that I would look into ways to promote Killer Commute beginning this month. Here’s the thing, we get so excited about the potential – the endless possibilities that our future holds. But when it gets time to work…some of us falter. I’m guilty of it. Like I said I made a promise to myself. This time it’s going to be different. I proved I can write a novel. I proved that I can get it accepted. Let me add a few stories were accepted for some web sites as well. All of this takes time, and now is the next bold step. Promote Killer Commute and myself as a novelist. I think of my grandmother who said, “Self praise is no praise.” But this is different. I’m not praising myself, but instead the novel. It’s a great book that appeals to a large segment of our society – the commuters on the train.
I’m writing this on the train. I’m not in my usual seat with Mike the cop across the aisle from me. Just put my iPod in my ear since we’re approaching St James and there’s one character that gets on and used to sit next to me. The ear phones are in, and listening to Echo’s A Promise. There are a lot of people getting on. And guess what…he sits next to me.
Let’s talk about dedicating time. This is what I need to follow up on. So Champaign mentioned I should get into chat rooms or something similar. Mention the book. There is also an article in the Daily News that pertains to commuting and this would be a great outlet. I will submit the essay to the Long islander. I can talk to Katherine at work since she used to work there. My friend who is sitting across from me doesn’t know why I’m not talking to him. Dude, I’m working here. “I’m walking here!” Ratso Ritzo yells out and bangs the hood of the taxi. We’re in Smithtown and I’m babbling. I don’t mean to waste your time with babble. So there’s the article in the Long Islander and the Daily News. I will locate some mystery chat rooms. Come to think of it, perhaps an interview with my friend across the pond? Next week I plan on speaking at Toastmasters about writing the book and getting it published. There’s a few things right there.
So what does it take to promote? It takes some assistance from others. What about my Father-In-Law who does PR for the school district? I need to ask Ali what she thinks.
Before you know it, the novel is published. This is anticipated for a June 2010 release. Before then I would like to have some book stores lined up for a reading and signing. Any yet Champaign wants us to focus on the EBOOK. The almighty EBOOK that would be more profitable for all of us. There are a few Kindle readers on the train, but by far most of us read books. We like feeling the weight of a book in our hands, creasing the papers, lending it to others and eventually storing it our shelves.
“I’m jumbled up…maybe I’m losing my touch…but you know I didn’t have it any other way…” Echo and The Bunnymen - Rescue.
My friend sat down right next to me. Don’t know why, but I got up and moved my seat across from him. The train is going to be packed. I should move my bag that’s on the seat next to me. I should. If someone asks I will move it.
So, where will I start? Putting together a list of mystery book stores in the area. These includes Pennsylvania and Mass….check web sites for Mystery Press readers groups and share the good news about Killer Commute….a unique mystery for the commuter…
We’re pulling out of Kings Park. I get off in Huntington, but I really don’t want to lift my head up. My fellow commuter is just hanging on and waiting for the moment when we can make eye contact and he can say something about my laptop and he can tell me about his and his music and his music systems for his DJing gigs – I heard it. Let me write and look up a few times…
”What are you writing?” You must be busy with work.”
The train is moving through a slight snow shower. Blowing white strands on the rusty tracks. Inside the commuters are maintaining the silence. Stuck in their distinct worlds, caring less about the person just inches from their bodies. Northport…and this is where the most get on board. They are waiting outside the door, and slowly making their way inside, walking up the three steps.

Next day, and I’m home sitting in the dining room typing this. One of our cats is cleaning herself in the sun flowing in like a stretched rectangle. It’s quiet in this house. At this moment. Today is Bella’s birthday. She’s the youngest and so full of life. I want to prove to all of my children our dreams can be fulfilled with hard work, being responsible and faith in God…live a life with purpose…