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Incident at the Essex House, Manhattan NYC

One more excerpt nearing the end of my first book in this series.

Jan 3, 1995, Newspaper clipping:  Garrett Ryan Beaumont III was found dead in the East River on January 2, 1995. His body was discovered by a trash tug early that morning. A note found in a wine bottle was recovered on the shore later that day.

The paper didn’t mention that the wine was a 1982 Latour or that Garrett went by his middle name, dropping the reference to his place as the third in a line of thieves and murderous aristocrats. Few people knew or suspected anything out of the ordinary about Ryan—he was, at the simplest, a lover of life and at his most complex, a man tormented by his familial past most of which had died tragically by declared accidents or, by what some called, supernatural circumstances. He seemed to hold no thoughts of his family except his mother. He often spoke of his last dance with her at his cousin’s wedding at the Essex.

Man and Seagull

“We can lift ourselves out of ignorance, we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill. We can be free! We can learn to fly!”
Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Richard Bach

The photo was taken in Belize but it was too dark to catch much detail particularly of the gull, so I substituted a different one.

A Series of Approximations

Another excerpt from the book.

Tom Allen’s cliff house above Pfeiffer Beach in Big Sur was full of wonders and oddities and one of the reasons Jax liked to visit even though there were no typical kid things to do. This weekend—this birthday of Jax was different. All three of them were in a state of transition. Jax was leaving the single digits of childhood, Sara had begun a year of metamorphosis unsure if she would emerge a butterfly, and Tom had stepped out onto the rocky edge of madness. The essence of all that could be seen as transformative, but it was as unstable as the water below.

A Taste of Chapter One

Here is a taste of the first chapter of the first book in a 5-series in the genre of adult urban fantasy. It is a mixture of journal entries, narration, and artwork—full page sketches I’m creating for each chapter.

In memory of the year 1994, who died peacefully in its home located at what was previously the end of a disastrous 1993 and the culmination of 3.37 years of glory days with Jon. Sara likes to think of those days that way. Glory days. The days of tequila shots and hours of lavish sweaty sex. Those years were transcendent—intoxicating. Ecstasy can only be experienced not described; it is not merely living, it is seeing death because it demands the fear of giving everything of yourself to someone—like standing at the edge of a cliff waiting for the wind to sweep you off—and knowing that eventually, it would come.

Where is man?

I am not sure why I paint these types of images lately except that I want to. If I wanted to sell more art, I should be painting landscapes and sunsets.

The query: “At Auschwitz, tell me, where was God?”
The answer: “Where was man?”

On June 10, 1942 Nazis had killed nearly all the residents in Lidice village. It was done as a reprisal for the assassination of Nazi official Reinhard Heydrich. A group of 82 children were gassed at Chełmno, a town that housed a Nazi concentration camp set up specifically to carry out ethnic cleansing through mass killings — even of children.  Children taken from families…there are no more words for evil than this. A bronze sculpture by Marie Uchytilova in Lidice, Czech Republic commemorates the children.  See that below.