Right now, I'm printing out Book Three for the first time! Feels awesome. Another creation nearly complete. Still have to edit on the page some, but printing it out always feels exciting.
As of right now, it's 304pp. The story is all there, man. Now just fine tuning.
Wooooohooooo!
C.A. MacConnell
6/30/2018
CityBeat Articles
One of my Cover Stories: 2005
And here's a sample music one, from 2008. These guys are on the road now, rockin' out! Badass.
It was a privilege to meet so many rad artists.
Onward and upward,
C.A. MacConnell
😉💕
6/28/2018
Photo: Drummer
Drummer
Northside, OH
Hope you like the shot. One of my favorites. Love,
C.A. MacConnell
C.A. MacConnell
6/25/2018
Photo: Firehouse
Firehouse
Terrace Park, OH
How's it going? I'm starting my day over right now.
Been a little under the weather. Sick-o. But on the mend.
Keep on truckin',
C.A. MacConnell
6/24/2018
From the Hawk
I've been too stressed. So poor I can't pay attention, ha, it's true. But today the sun is shining, and I get to work on my book! As they say, one day at a time...one step at a time. Time to put on some muscle and take baby steps to regroup. Hope your day is beautiful. Hope you have peace and ridiculous magic. Why not. I sort of live in that realm of thinking, and sometimes it's not very practical, but the real world can blow me. 😎😸😸
💓From the point of view of the hawk...
From the Hawk
Time. Some feathers fall out. It happens.
My eyes are rolling now. Got poked
by some twigs. Robin took
my branch, but he won't be there tomorrow,
which is three minutes away.
There. Mine. Now.
Neck.
Achy.
Twitchy.
Mad. All day, looking backwards,
I've been grooming out the bad,
making way for the new.
Belly's rough too.
Hope the boy one doesn't look up here.
He looked.
He cocked his head left, which means me.
Left is my secret smile from his away place.
He's got a voice to kill. Always in the pine.
Even when the sky is white, I know he's there.
Come evening, he'll leave the needles
and fly to the thick, tricky pole.
Lookout.
There, he's taller, but so skinny.
Gave him the chipmunk yesterday.
Together four years now—since the day my Mom got caught on the wire.
A fast flyer, she was.
Wasn't her mistake.
Storms rolled in, making scary sparks.
Old Crow told Mother not to glide so close, but she wanted the fat
mole, and everyone knows it was for me. They still screech about it.
Now most fliers want to help and bring me a frog or two.
My eyes still make me look mean about it all, but the boy one thinks the yellow is all right,
and I guess I love
building the nest. When I'm too tired to fly,
I use the wind, which is sometimes helpful.
Soon, he'll come at me in the air again, but I like him.
He always comes back.
We lost one baby last year. She fell, and before I could claw her up,
the dog was there.
After, I wouldn't stop picking at everything. I admit
that the reddest part of my tail
hasn't recovered.
We have three in the nest this year.
Next week, I'll let them go.
I showed them how to rise up and stay
in the cold,
high part, where it's safe.
I see something moving.
A quarter mile.
I'd tell the boy one, but he'll hear me coming, and he'll already
know.
Now, higher. I stop beating
and glide.
I stop
to thank the sky for the sky,
because even the blue birds know that God
spreads out across the air, and those wings cover all that we see,
even the vultures,
who will one day become
what they eat.
If she wants to, God can fly next to the sun without burning.
Enough of the boy one and being wise.
Planning the dive.
Mouse, you have it coming to you.
C.A. MacConnell
💓From the point of view of the hawk...
From the Hawk
Time. Some feathers fall out. It happens.
My eyes are rolling now. Got poked
by some twigs. Robin took
my branch, but he won't be there tomorrow,
which is three minutes away.
There. Mine. Now.
Neck.
Achy.
Twitchy.
Mad. All day, looking backwards,
I've been grooming out the bad,
making way for the new.
Belly's rough too.
Hope the boy one doesn't look up here.
He looked.
He cocked his head left, which means me.
Left is my secret smile from his away place.
He's got a voice to kill. Always in the pine.
Even when the sky is white, I know he's there.
Come evening, he'll leave the needles
and fly to the thick, tricky pole.
Lookout.
There, he's taller, but so skinny.
Gave him the chipmunk yesterday.
Together four years now—since the day my Mom got caught on the wire.
A fast flyer, she was.
Wasn't her mistake.
Storms rolled in, making scary sparks.
Old Crow told Mother not to glide so close, but she wanted the fat
mole, and everyone knows it was for me. They still screech about it.
Now most fliers want to help and bring me a frog or two.
My eyes still make me look mean about it all, but the boy one thinks the yellow is all right,
and I guess I love
building the nest. When I'm too tired to fly,
I use the wind, which is sometimes helpful.
Soon, he'll come at me in the air again, but I like him.
He always comes back.
We lost one baby last year. She fell, and before I could claw her up,
the dog was there.
After, I wouldn't stop picking at everything. I admit
that the reddest part of my tail
hasn't recovered.
We have three in the nest this year.
Next week, I'll let them go.
I showed them how to rise up and stay
in the cold,
high part, where it's safe.
I see something moving.
A quarter mile.
I'd tell the boy one, but he'll hear me coming, and he'll already
know.
Now, higher. I stop beating
and glide.
I stop
to thank the sky for the sky,
because even the blue birds know that God
spreads out across the air, and those wings cover all that we see,
even the vultures,
who will one day become
what they eat.
If she wants to, God can fly next to the sun without burning.
Enough of the boy one and being wise.
Planning the dive.
Mouse, you have it coming to you.
C.A. MacConnell
6/23/2018
Flashback.
I remember this dress. I think I wore it every single day for a year, minus a few forced washes here and there. The jacket was my brother's...it made me feel "older" when I wore it. I remember thinking it was so special. Like magic. I remember this shot. I was in the backyard...my favorite place. I could see the farmer's horses from there. And the swing set was right there. I felt most at peace back there, for sure. There was a willow tree as well. I loved to sit under the willow and write ridiculous things. I loved the feel of the branches touching my cheeks.
Not much has changed. I still love fields, horses, and willow trees.
And the feeling of freedom that came with all of it.
I admit this week has been tough. But I have a feeling things will turn around. My spiritual adviser tells me to live in gratitude. She does, every day. She's a nun, and she's always smiling. Her jewelry is fantastic...not the expensive kind, but the kind you can only find at a vintage store or garage sale. I love every single piece of it. Lots of purple. I don't wear much jewelry. Hardly at all, actually, although I just ordered a Native American necklace made of beads...I'm so excited.
Anyhow. I'm working on Book Three, damnit, I am. I'm finishing this sucker regardless of what's going on, that's for sure. Just checking in. Sharing a part of my life.
If no one told you yet today, I love you,
C.A. MacConnell
6/20/2018
Photo: Great Blue Heron
Great Blue Heron
Sharon Woods
Great Walker of Five Miles in Ridiculous Weather. 🔥🌞
I think the temperature was 256 degrees yesterday.
Working hard on Book Three. I'm on page 100 of 300 on this run-through. Looking good. Some more work to do, but right now, I'm in the tuning stages, which rocks.
That's all for now,💪💟
C.A. MacConnell
Working hard on Book Three. I'm on page 100 of 300 on this run-through. Looking good. Some more work to do, but right now, I'm in the tuning stages, which rocks.
That's all for now,💪💟
C.A. MacConnell
6/19/2018
Mental Tapes: Be Easy
Don't we all have mornings where we look in the mirror and think this: I look like absolute shit. Well, I suppose I don't know if you do, but I do, for sure. Had that thought this morning. And yesterday. I suppose we all have some sort of old mental tape that plays over and over in the mind. Maybe the tapes are different, but they creep up on us, aye? Aye, matey. I have no idea why I suddenly turned into a pirate, ha.
Mental tapes. Maybe some girl wakes up terrified of work because when she was little her father told her she would never succeed and every day, she battles this demon. Some kid at the U.S. border wonders if he'll ever see his parents again because his entire life the outside world has stripped him of relatives, one by one, with no fucking warning. Some older woman collects canned goods because when she was little, there was no food in the house. Some man ferociously cleans his car at the self service wash, even though he already did it once that day, because when he was little, his father lost it all gambling, and the message is clear to him: the work is never enough. And deep inside me, there are still the remnants of myself as a little girl, depressed and full of self-hatred.
The tapes play on; they creep up on us in the strangest moments. Some people are never aware of these tapes. Others are. Awareness can be a beast...over time, I've worked to fight against these negative mental tapes, and there's been great progress, but I suppose we all carry the deepest ones with us for years...maybe some of us hold on to them our entire lives.
These days, I mainly battle self esteem issues and fear. What makes me most afraid? It changes, but lately, judgment of my life and body, and the fear of being stuck. Trapped.
But there's something miraculous within all of this -- these pains can bring us together. And with all of these highs and lows, with all of these battles within us, remember to be easy on others and be easy on yourself today.
C.A. MacConnell
Mental tapes. Maybe some girl wakes up terrified of work because when she was little her father told her she would never succeed and every day, she battles this demon. Some kid at the U.S. border wonders if he'll ever see his parents again because his entire life the outside world has stripped him of relatives, one by one, with no fucking warning. Some older woman collects canned goods because when she was little, there was no food in the house. Some man ferociously cleans his car at the self service wash, even though he already did it once that day, because when he was little, his father lost it all gambling, and the message is clear to him: the work is never enough. And deep inside me, there are still the remnants of myself as a little girl, depressed and full of self-hatred.
The tapes play on; they creep up on us in the strangest moments. Some people are never aware of these tapes. Others are. Awareness can be a beast...over time, I've worked to fight against these negative mental tapes, and there's been great progress, but I suppose we all carry the deepest ones with us for years...maybe some of us hold on to them our entire lives.
These days, I mainly battle self esteem issues and fear. What makes me most afraid? It changes, but lately, judgment of my life and body, and the fear of being stuck. Trapped.
But there's something miraculous within all of this -- these pains can bring us together. And with all of these highs and lows, with all of these battles within us, remember to be easy on others and be easy on yourself today.
C.A. MacConnell
6/18/2018
The Shop
Morning. Poetry today. This one's tight. :) Thought I'd share. Have a good day, wherever your adventures take you. I wish I didn't have to go to work, but sometimes, when I'm mopping, I meet some really incredible strangers. Today, let me realize that it's all about perspective...how can I see the tiny miracles within the interactions. How can I reach each person I serve. Or at least not be a beast. Ha, let's set the bar low. That way, I can only go up. Hope you like this piece. I dig it. Much love, C.A.
The Shop
The clean, fresh
sheets. The fat cat
fed. The fish tank
tomorrow. Whites.
The final spin.
The heavy weight
of spotless silence.
No, no ring
tone near her beige
bedroom. Far past time.
The cream Eldorado
is locked, three deep,
in The Shop,
where the filthy,
full-lipped mechanic
lovingly
smokes menthols.
Her pretty ride
will still make
the night owl.
C.A. MacConnell
The Shop
The clean, fresh
sheets. The fat cat
fed. The fish tank
tomorrow. Whites.
The final spin.
The heavy weight
of spotless silence.
No, no ring
tone near her beige
bedroom. Far past time.
The cream Eldorado
is locked, three deep,
in The Shop,
where the filthy,
full-lipped mechanic
lovingly
smokes menthols.
Her pretty ride
will still make
the night owl.
C.A. MacConnell
6/16/2018
Photo: Hill
Glenwood Gardens
One of my favorite places. I love fields...reminds me of being little at all the horse farms where I rode. I've always felt connected to fields and meadows.
Hope your day is full of ridiculousness. Ha.
Did you know a Medicine Man is a healer, but he thinks of everyone as his teacher. I'll try and remember to be humble today and think of everyone as my teacher. Yes.
Time to get rollin'. Much love to you,
C.A. MacConnell
Hope your day is full of ridiculousness. Ha.
Did you know a Medicine Man is a healer, but he thinks of everyone as his teacher. I'll try and remember to be humble today and think of everyone as my teacher. Yes.
Time to get rollin'. Much love to you,
C.A. MacConnell
6/15/2018
Love Poem
Hello. Just warming up with some flash poetry. Hope you dig it. This would make a good song. I like Beck and Mike Doughty and Fiona Apple b/c of the strange poetic nature of their lyrics. This one reminded me of that. Peace, love, C.A.
Love Poem
I need a guitar,
and a new tattoo.
I need a dollar
to buy a lotto ticket.
Winner winner chicken dinner.
I need a woman
to show me how to heal.
I need a man
with a tattered jacket,
and a trick up his sleeve.
I need a black Camaro
with Kentucky plates,
and a rooster, a dog, and a glove.
I need a mailbox that leans,
and a doctor
who knows how to fuck.
If I could go back,
I'd take up the drums,
just for the muscle.
I need a mighty voice, a piano,
and a damn safe spork.
I need a shovel, a white room,
a backpack,
and some noise.
I need new employment
in the sky.
My eye is twitching.
My ears are ringing.
My ears are burning.
My eyes are burning.
There is one person
I'd like to mention.
C.A. MacConnell
Love Poem
I need a guitar,
and a new tattoo.
I need a dollar
to buy a lotto ticket.
Winner winner chicken dinner.
I need a woman
to show me how to heal.
I need a man
with a tattered jacket,
and a trick up his sleeve.
I need a black Camaro
with Kentucky plates,
and a rooster, a dog, and a glove.
I need a mailbox that leans,
and a doctor
who knows how to fuck.
If I could go back,
I'd take up the drums,
just for the muscle.
I need a mighty voice, a piano,
and a damn safe spork.
I need a shovel, a white room,
a backpack,
and some noise.
I need new employment
in the sky.
My eye is twitching.
My ears are ringing.
My ears are burning.
My eyes are burning.
There is one person
I'd like to mention.
C.A. MacConnell
6/14/2018
This is What It's All About.
Mustangs
Photo by my cousin Brian Schmidt :)
Had to share. Makes my heart sing. Now back to working on Book Three.
C.A. MacConnell
C.A. MacConnell
6/11/2018
Photo: Kiss
Kiss
Hi there. I love this shot, man. Hope you do as well.
Drinking some Brazilian coffee, yum. About to get out in nature for a bit, then job hunt some more and get to work on Book Three, coming soon to you! Hope your day is full of love and light.
Peace,
C.A. MacConnell
Peace,
C.A. MacConnell
6/09/2018
My Pick. Photo:
Mustang
Outer Banks
I'm totally against horse racing, ha, but this would be my pick, considering jockeys, trainers, the horses, and the track.
Let's see if I'm right. I love to see them in the wild.
C.A. MacConnell
6/07/2018
Where It All Started.
Catawba Mountain
Virginia
I think this spot is my favorite place in the world. If I were to ever get married, I'd like it to be here. See, I'd like to collect my new husband's cash then throw my new husband over the edge. Ha! I'm joking. I do love this place.
The very first draft of this third book I'm working on was written my Senior Year in college in Virginia. At Hollins University, I punched out something like 120pp. of the sucker for my Senior Thesis, and the work was awarded the Hollins Fiction Prize that year, 1996. At the time, the story was told in three different points of view, all first person.
Back then, my professor and thesis advisor walked by me when I was sitting in the Hollins' Main Building rocking chairs, and he said this: "I read your work. It's good, really good." Coming from Rick, that was thrilling. Rest in peace, Rick. You've been a huge mentor in my journey.
Now the book is third person subjective. That change took some time, let me tell you. What a mess.
Not a mess anymore.
I basically let it sit until the past few years, when I started dabbling with it again, making changes, doing more research, and the like. Since then, it has been drastically altered of course. Onward and upward. I'm so pleased with the way it's going. Still quite a bit of work to do, but I'm rolling with it pretty quickly.
Can't wait for you to read it.
C.A. MacConnell
6/06/2018
The Porch Swing
I chew on the accident –
my swollen lip
that you bit last night
when we shared oranges,
sucking them down
end to end, lip to lip,
burning and breathing in
African incense.
Outside, like fresh fire,
sleet cracked the ground,
and god made more
than a dusting. Later,
we sat on the metal swing
and rocked. At this show,
my toes barely touched
the porch. With fingertips,
you played my hands,
pressing into my life lines.
I gripped the chains.
Wind whipped my hair.
I pumped harder,
and we rose higher,
until everything rattled.
I hung on like a hangnail.
C.A. MacConnell
6/05/2018
6/04/2018
The Day We Drank Nightwatch
Gum was stuck to the sewer
grates.
No rain
the day we drank
Nightwatch by the Space Needle,
strumming songs,
proven by prison
tattoos.
Your long-key fingers
crawled to move.
Nothing else about you
was gorgeous.
Evenings, you were fast
and jerky.
Mornings, you were slow,
shaky, slow.
You were a slick black, one-
way,
straight shot.
You were the sharpest,
most untouchable
thief.
You were the coolest,
smoothest, loaded
bullet.
C.A. MacConnell
grates.
No rain
the day we drank
Nightwatch by the Space Needle,
strumming songs,
proven by prison
tattoos.
Your long-key fingers
crawled to move.
Nothing else about you
was gorgeous.
Evenings, you were fast
and jerky.
Mornings, you were slow,
shaky, slow.
You were a slick black, one-
way,
straight shot.
You were the sharpest,
most untouchable
thief.
You were the coolest,
smoothest, loaded
bullet.
C.A. MacConnell
6/03/2018
Buttface and the Wolf Man
An oldie but definitely a goodie. Have a good Sunday. I know I'm getting out in the sun to hunt for creatures. Love to you, C.A.
Buttface and the Wolf Man
A while back, I was teaching yoga, and it was a big class, like 20 people. It went so smooth. I really felt in the zone. Well, when it came time for deep relaxation, it was nice and quiet in there, so I turned the music off and went back to stretch out on my mat and relax with everyone. Right at that moment, when everyone had their eyes closed, this guy came barreling into the room with his headphones on, and he decided to lift some weights. Since he had those headphones on, he didn’t know he was breathing so loud that it sounded like he was having some rough sex for a long, long time. We could all hear it. I mean, it was so loud.
I kept thinking, I wish he would get off already. I smirked. Then I opened my eyes, and I looked up at one client who was giggling, and I just lost my shit, started cracking up. Then all 20 people started cracking up, and the guy was still breathing and breathing like a madman, absolutely oblivious to the class that was supposed to be going on.
THEN, when everyone was sitting up, I looked over, and the guy was leaving the room, and I saw that the back of his shirt read, in big, tattoo-style letters, I kid you not, “Buttface.” I started laughing again and told everyone what it said, and they started laughing again.
Then I said “Namaste.” That’s how I ended the class. If I would’ve thought quicker, during the relaxation, I would’ve gone up to the dude and said, “Hey, Buttface, can you keep it down? I have a class going on here.” But alas, I wasn’t quick enough. Next time, next time.
…then, later, I was on my way to meet the band, Shiny and the Spoon, when I looked out my car window and saw a man wearing a wolf. I am not joking – it was a dead wolf, the whole damn thing. The wolf head was intact, sitting on top of the man’s head, and the body and legs hung down the man’s back, swinging while he walked. It was the most disgusting thing, and I was like, dude, where the fuck are the animal rights activists on this one? Wolf man, for real. Is that even legal, ‘cause it was so unpolitically correct it was amusing. I have never seen anything like it, not in this century.
I told Shiny and the Spoon about the Wolf man and the legs swinging all disgustingly, and they got a kick out of it, but we were all like, what the hell. Tomorrow, I’m expecting to see someone in a White Tiger suit, blood and guts and all. Where is PETA when we need them? I was dumbfounded.
Anyway, heavily breathing buttfaces and wolf men from outta nowhere make for a bizarre week. Anyway, hope this day finds you well and happy. I’m off to go breathe heavily on someone, then kill a deer with my bare hands and wear it as a parka, hooves and cute little nose and all.
C.A. MacConnell
Buttface and the Wolf Man
A while back, I was teaching yoga, and it was a big class, like 20 people. It went so smooth. I really felt in the zone. Well, when it came time for deep relaxation, it was nice and quiet in there, so I turned the music off and went back to stretch out on my mat and relax with everyone. Right at that moment, when everyone had their eyes closed, this guy came barreling into the room with his headphones on, and he decided to lift some weights. Since he had those headphones on, he didn’t know he was breathing so loud that it sounded like he was having some rough sex for a long, long time. We could all hear it. I mean, it was so loud.
I kept thinking, I wish he would get off already. I smirked. Then I opened my eyes, and I looked up at one client who was giggling, and I just lost my shit, started cracking up. Then all 20 people started cracking up, and the guy was still breathing and breathing like a madman, absolutely oblivious to the class that was supposed to be going on.
THEN, when everyone was sitting up, I looked over, and the guy was leaving the room, and I saw that the back of his shirt read, in big, tattoo-style letters, I kid you not, “Buttface.” I started laughing again and told everyone what it said, and they started laughing again.
Then I said “Namaste.” That’s how I ended the class. If I would’ve thought quicker, during the relaxation, I would’ve gone up to the dude and said, “Hey, Buttface, can you keep it down? I have a class going on here.” But alas, I wasn’t quick enough. Next time, next time.
…then, later, I was on my way to meet the band, Shiny and the Spoon, when I looked out my car window and saw a man wearing a wolf. I am not joking – it was a dead wolf, the whole damn thing. The wolf head was intact, sitting on top of the man’s head, and the body and legs hung down the man’s back, swinging while he walked. It was the most disgusting thing, and I was like, dude, where the fuck are the animal rights activists on this one? Wolf man, for real. Is that even legal, ‘cause it was so unpolitically correct it was amusing. I have never seen anything like it, not in this century.
I told Shiny and the Spoon about the Wolf man and the legs swinging all disgustingly, and they got a kick out of it, but we were all like, what the hell. Tomorrow, I’m expecting to see someone in a White Tiger suit, blood and guts and all. Where is PETA when we need them? I was dumbfounded.
Anyway, heavily breathing buttfaces and wolf men from outta nowhere make for a bizarre week. Anyway, hope this day finds you well and happy. I’m off to go breathe heavily on someone, then kill a deer with my bare hands and wear it as a parka, hooves and cute little nose and all.
C.A. MacConnell
6/02/2018
Photo: Flag
Flag
Been looking at some old shots I took. Hope you like this one. :)
Have a beautiful Saturday. I'm off to work soon. :( Wish I could work on my book more. One day. I feel strong, though. I'll be the girl in the yellow hat. Like the man in the yellow hat from Curious George, only mine isn't nearly as cool. Just to hide my ridiculous big hair that needs a cut desperately, but I hate getting my hair cut. The whole experience blows, in my opinion. I also hate shopping and pedicures. I'd rather be in the woods! Or working on this new book! It's good, I promise. It'll be a movie, I hope! Stay tuned.
Have a beautiful Saturday. I'm off to work soon. :( Wish I could work on my book more. One day. I feel strong, though. I'll be the girl in the yellow hat. Like the man in the yellow hat from Curious George, only mine isn't nearly as cool. Just to hide my ridiculous big hair that needs a cut desperately, but I hate getting my hair cut. The whole experience blows, in my opinion. I also hate shopping and pedicures. I'd rather be in the woods! Or working on this new book! It's good, I promise. It'll be a movie, I hope! Stay tuned.
C.A. MacConnell