http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/index/ en william@thefrozenman.com Copyright 2008 2008-09-25T20:14:41-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/the_zen_of_shaving_ones_balls/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/the_zen_of_shaving_ones_balls/#When:12:14:00Z by R.T. Laferriere Trade Paperback $19.99 Product Details Printed: 109 pages, 6” x 9”, perfect binding, black and white interior ink Copyright: © 2007 Language: English “The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls” is an eclectic book of poetry by R.T. Laferriere. The collection ranges wildly in themes, from the familiar to the outright ridiculous (as the title suggests). Unlike R.T. Laferriere’s previous collections, “The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls” does not have a central raison d’etre. Rather it jumps all over the map with pieces like “saline”, “in the company of cookies”, “my new umbrella” as well as fan-favorite “The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls”. Published by http://www.lulu.com, a reputable online book publisher/distributor.  Lulu accepts all major credit cards, and is PayPal verified and secured by GeoTrust.BUY NOW by R.T. Laferriere Trade Paperback $19.99 Product Details Printed: 109 pages, 6” x 9”, perfect binding, black and white interior ink Copyright: © 2007 Language: English “The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls” is an eclectic book of poetry by R.T. Laferriere. The collection ranges wildly in themes, from the familiar to the outright ridiculous (as the title suggests). Unlike R.T. Laferriere’s previous collections, “The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls” does not have a central raison d’etre. Rather it jumps all over the map with pieces like “saline”, “in the company of cookies”, “my new umbrella” as well as fan-favorite “The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls”. Published by http://www.lulu.com, a reputable online book publisher/distributor.  Lulu accepts all major credit cards, and is PayPal verified and secured by GeoTrust.BUY NOW Shop 2007-10-01T12:14:00-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/torn/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/torn/#When:20:14:41Z i am made of paper, and   i’ve been torn… daily…   by those trying to shape me   into the being they would   like me to be. yet like an oragami pattern   too difficult for the weak-willed,   i have been folded too many   times… and now my body   possesses not the strength   that it used to. pen and pencil marks mar   my skin like a multitude of   mistakes… one for every   breath of my being. and though some may say   i’ve much to live for… there   are days i stray towards   fire… that it may light   me. i am made of paper, and   i’ve been torn… daily…   by those trying to shape me   into the being they would   like me to be. yet like an oragami pattern   too difficult for the weak-willed,   i have been folded too many   times… and now my body   possesses not the strength   that it used to. pen and pencil marks mar   my skin like a multitude of   mistakes… one for every   breath of my being. and though some may say   i’ve much to live for… there   are days i stray towards   fire… that it may light   me. Fiction, Poetry 2008-09-25T20:14:41-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/to_step_beyond/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/to_step_beyond/#When:23:46:29Z i need not worry of unspeakable enemies   from across an ocean whose water i’ve   never tread… never seen… much less   traveled upon. i’ve feet that’ve always recognized the   earth… never having been   a foreigner. and tis this monotony of life which has   systematically stolen my life. i do not worry about an explosive death…   one which would rip through me   unexpectedly. that is not to imply that such violence would   be a welcomed end to a wasted life…   but rather that i’ve a mind imprisoned…   and till i seek escape, i’ll care little   for the problems of the world. till i step beyond my means, it will always   be too big to fully comprehend. i need not worry of unspeakable enemies   from across an ocean whose water i’ve   never tread… never seen… much less   traveled upon. i’ve feet that’ve always recognized the   earth… never having been   a foreigner. and tis this monotony of life which has   systematically stolen my life. i do not worry about an explosive death…   one which would rip through me   unexpectedly. that is not to imply that such violence would   be a welcomed end to a wasted life…   but rather that i’ve a mind imprisoned…   and till i seek escape, i’ll care little   for the problems of the world. till i step beyond my means, it will always   be too big to fully comprehend. Fiction, Poetry 2008-09-24T23:46:29-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/literal_irony/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/literal_irony/#When:19:17:48Z How cruel that I stammer over words   when written by someone else… that   my mind cannot accept a logical progression   of ideas and emotions. But that I write my own… then, ah then   I can dance with the language… I can   play with it like a father tossing a ball   lovingly to his son… a mother teaching   a daughter the beauties of a changing   form… a moment of grace before my eyes. Still, perhaps my words only mean something   to me, for I understand my fractured   sentences… my thought patterns… my   lack of purpose…   but to live and breathe in the now like a child   writing his first word in crayon.  How cruel that I stammer over words   when written by someone else… that   my mind cannot accept a logical progression   of ideas and emotions. But that I write my own… then, ah then   I can dance with the language… I can   play with it like a father tossing a ball   lovingly to his son… a mother teaching   a daughter the beauties of a changing   form… a moment of grace before my eyes. Still, perhaps my words only mean something   to me, for I understand my fractured sentences…   my thought patterns… my lack of purpose…   but to live and breathe in the now like a child   writing his first word in crayon.  Fiction, Poetry 2008-09-12T19:17:48-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/a_lesson_before_passing/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/a_lesson_before_passing/#When:00:33:44Z I believe that it is life altering events which shape us as writers.  They guide us, though not in the romanticized manner you would expect. When faced with the end of one’s life, I do not believe that any rational human being thinks; “I wish I had written that novel” in lieu of “I wish I had spent more time with my family”.  We do not long for the solitude of a closed room and a computer with which to create, when faced with an uncertain future.  We crave human contact. This is the catch-22 that is writing.  It is human contact which instinctively we need to survive, as well as to lend credibility to our words, and yet the very act of writing is one which removes us from others.  The question becomes, if human contact makes us better writers, how then does writing reciprocate? I’ve needed to think about this for some time.  Nearly a year, in fact. I believe that it is life altering events which shape us as writers.  They guide us, though not in the romanticized manner you would expect. When faced with the end of one’s life, I do not believe that any rational human being thinks; “I wish I had written that novel” in lieu of “I wish I had spent more time with my family”.  We do not long for the solitude of a closed room and a computer with which to create, when faced with an uncertain future.  We crave human contact. This is the catch-22 that is writing.  It is human contact which instinctively we need to survive, as well as to lend credibility to our words, and yet the very act of writing is one which removes us from others.  The question becomes, if human contact makes us better writers, how then does writing reciprocate? I’ve needed to think about this for some time.  Nearly a year, in fact. It is interesting how the mind functions at times when one doesn’t know if a heaven exists or if someone will be there waiting for us… or if our heart will hold out long enough to see another setting sun. Events take on importance when you are not ready.  Consequences take on gravity.  And words become one’s only way of making amends, showing affection, explaining one’s actions and making change. In this way, those of us who express ourselves better in writing thrive.  Certainly, the days of written letters are long behind us, however we still live in a time driven by words.  Between e-mails, text and instant messages, blogs and Twitter or Facebook pages, we live in a world very much in touch with emotions conveyed through letters… though now they are electronic. Still, they are words… with which to prove ourselves in the eyes and conscious of others.  To live more truly… if but for a moment before exiting that lonesome room and finding company… someone to sit on the porch with and tell lies, watching the sun set yet again. Editorial 2008-09-09T00:33:44-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/its_about_no_longer_being_a_bastard/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/its_about_no_longer_being_a_bastard/#When:00:09:00Z by R.T. Laferriere Trade Paperback $19.99 Product Details Printed: 109 pages, 6” x 9”, perfect binding, black and white interior ink Copyright: © 2007 Language: English “it’s about no longer being a bastard” is R.T. Laferriere’s second collection of poetry. The collection is arranged in such a fashion as to allow the reader a chance to see the narrator(s) through a healing process. The collection contains heart-wrenching pieces along with uplifting, spiritual pieces, including the 17 page fan favorite, “The King and I”, which brings a father and son back together through a game of chess. Published by http://www.lulu.com, a reputable online book publisher/distributor.  Lulu accepts all major credit cards, and is PayPal verified and secured by GeoTrust.BUY NOW by R.T. Laferriere Trade Paperback $19.99 Product Details Printed: 109 pages, 6” x 9”, perfect binding, black and white interior ink Copyright: © 2007 Language: English “it’s about no longer being a bastard” is R.T. Laferriere’s second collection of poetry. The collection is arranged in such a fashion as to allow the reader a chance to see the narrator(s) through a healing process. The collection contains heart-wrenching pieces along with uplifting, spiritual pieces, including the 17 page fan favorite, “The King and I”, which brings a father and son back together through a game of chess. Published by http://www.lulu.com, a reputable online book publisher/distributor.  Lulu accepts all major credit cards, and is PayPal verified and secured by GeoTrust.BUY NOW Shop 2007-11-08T00:09:00-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/that_a_new_tongue_may_save_me/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/that_a_new_tongue_may_save_me/#When:15:19:01Z i feel that i need a new language   as this one no longer serves me. it confuses me and angers me to   no end with its failure to mean   anything beyond the mundane.   there is no power but to say   ’power’.  no passion… for such   a word remains limited by a twenty-   six link chain attached to a   weighted ball. i’ve thought of studying various   other languages, though i   fear in the end, that i would   ultimately feel the same about   them as well. what i need is to create my   very own language, complete   with characters so profound   in their meaning that words   would drip with emotion.    context and tonality would be   easily felt from the page, and to   speak it would bring tears to   one’s eyes. such a thing would be beautiful   indeed… though i fear i may   jealously guard this language   that it not be destroyed by   simple-minded folks… the likes   of which are currently destroying   the English language. and so it would be that only   i would revel in this new tongue. it would be lonely, no doubt. though perhaps within i would   still find serenity. i feel that i need a new language   as this one no longer serves me. it confuses me and angers me to   no end with its failure to mean   anything beyond the mundane.   there is no power but to say   ’power’.  no passion… for such   a word remains limited by a twenty-   six link chain attached to a   weighted ball. i’ve thought of studying various   other languages, though i   fear in the end, that i would   ultimately feel the same about   them as well. what i need is to create my   very own language, complete   with characters so profound   in their meaning that words   would drip with emotion.    context and tonality would be   easily felt from the page, and to   speak it would bring tears to   one’s eyes. such a thing would be beautiful   indeed… though i fear i may   jealously guard this language   that it not be destroyed by   simple-minded folks… the likes   of which are currently destroying   the English language. and so it would be that only   i would revel in this new tongue. it would be lonely, no doubt. though perhaps within i would   still find serenity. Fiction, Poetry 2007-09-19T15:19:01-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/exciting_order/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/exciting_order/#When:16:14:01Z I’d initially planned on personally binding my third collection poetry, just as I had with my first two.  The first collection; Doing Time..., was soft-cover bound using an interesting spine clip.  The book was quite handsome, though I still felt there was room for improvement.  The second collection; it’s about no longer being a bastard, was hard-cover bound.  I practically ripped apart some hard-cover novels I owned, researched book making, and came up with my own design which I maintain looks phenomenal.  The only downside is that each book takes nearly 3 hours to complete. I’d initially planned on personally binding my third collection poetry, just as I had with my first two.  The first collection; Doing Time..., was soft-cover bound using an interesting spine clip.  The book was quite handsome, though I still felt there was room for improvement.  The second collection; it’s about no longer being a bastard, was hard-cover bound.  I practically ripped apart some hard-cover novels I owned, researched book making, and came up with my own design which I maintain looks phenomenal.  The only downside is that each book takes nearly 3 hours to complete. Some months ago, I began prepping myself for my third collection; The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls.  I was prepared to do a very limited print-run of hard-covers… but then everything started getting extremely busy in my life.  My wife and I moved our family to a new city and as anyone who has moved knows, that is a lot of work. The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls had to take a backseat to more pressing matters, like selling our old house, finding a new one, procuring a job, etc. Now that things have settled, I’ve decided to get to work on publishing the collection… however I’ve decided that I simply do not have the time to devote to three hours per book.  And so I chose a reputable online publisher and have setup an account with them to publish the book.  I’ve seen books published by them (from other authors) and they always look fantastic, so I’ve quite a bit of faith in them… though not enough to start selling The Zen of Shaving One’s Balls without first buying myself a copy and checking it out. Which I’ve just done. I finished the process this morning, and uploaded all of my content (manuscript and custom covers).  I don’t know how long shipping will take to get here, as I chose the least expensive delivery (no sense paying a small fortune just to get it a couple days faster). Once I receive the copy and give it the once over, I will open up the collection so that anyone can purchase a copy. I have also begun preparing my second collection for reprinting at the same online service.  I still have a digital copy of the book (unlike the first one, which I only own a paper copy of), and so printing it’s about no longer being a bastard will be quite easy and will allow others who’d not gotten a hard-cover copy to enjoy it.  This should happen shortly, at which point I will post about that book as well. The only downside to all of this is that Doing Time... will never see a reprint… as I do not think I will ever take the time to retype the entire manuscript. Still, I am excited for the other two collections.  I sincerely hope others are as well. Blogs, Roger's Blog 2007-09-17T16:14:01-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/cadence_when_writing/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/cadence_when_writing/#When:15:38:00Z I believe in allowing the mood of that which I am writing to influence the way in which I type.  That is to say, if I am writing a scene which is full of angst, I will pound the keys much more furiously.  If the scene calls for a gentle hand, I will be soft. I believe that cadence plays a very large part in how I write, and in all honesty, I believe it makes me a better writer. I believe in allowing the mood of that which I am writing to influence the way in which I type.  That is to say, if I am writing a scene which is full of angst, I will pound the keys much more furiously.  If the scene calls for a gentle hand, I will be soft. I believe that cadence plays a very large part in how I write, and in all honesty, I believe it makes me a better writer. Now, this is not something which I have discussed with other writers (surprisingly).  Perhaps there are many who do the same.  Perhaps not.  Behind office doors, it’s hard to tell how others accomplish the same feat of putting words to paper. It’s a “method acting” type of writing, and I’d have it no other way.  It allows you to be more involved in that which you are writing.  You are not only a cold, all knowing entity controlling the story.  Rather, you are in the heat of it, running alongside your heroine down a dark alley, your fingers ablaze on the keyboard.  Your hands sway ever so gently as music plays and the couple dances together.  You pause as your narrator sighs. It works quite effectively, as it puts you in the proper frame of mind, thereby allowing you to rightly feel what is necessary in order to choose the best words for the scene.  If your heart is not beating faster as the plot hastens, how can you justify the passion in the words? I’m certain there are Zen writers out there able to calmly separate themselves from the emotions which they transcribe onto the page.  And I’ve no doubt they are exceptionally talented. For me though, I need that sense of connectedness.  That sense of belonging in the story. Blogs, Roger's Blog 2007-09-14T15:38:00-05:00 http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/forgetting_oneself/ http://www.thefrozenman.com/index.php/site/forgetting_oneself/#When:15:05:00Z I forget who I am sometimes. Forget what is important. Forget that I am not quite as alone in this world, as I sometimes feel. I forget to write, and spend my days wandering town talking to people and for lack of a better term, living. I start hobbies, like building boats in bottles… building tolerance within my being.  I practice photography… snapping shots of people whose faces I will then stare at for hours on my computer.  I will even go so far as to imagine what events in their lives caused various wrinkles or scars. It is then that the seed is planted. I forget who I am sometimes. Forget what is important. Forget that I am not quite as alone in this world, as I sometimes feel. I forget to write, and spend my days wandering town talking to people and for lack of a better term, living. I start hobbies, like building boats in bottles… building tolerance within my being.  I practice photography… snapping shots of people whose faces I will then stare at for hours on my computer.  I will even go so far as to imagine what events in their lives caused various wrinkles or scars. It is then that the seed is planted. I do not see it being buried beneath the soil (beneath my skin, so to speak)… but it is there. It will creep through my psyche, keeping my delusions company, and together they will concoct such wonderful tales. For you see, my imagination normally receives its playtime via my writing.  When I am not writing, it has no outlet.  I can repress it for quite some time.  In fact, I am noticing that I am able to keep it at bay much longer as I age, though I know not why this is. However like a river that has been blocked, two things can happen.  Either it can find the path of least resistance and continue peacefully along its way… or it can accumulate power and rage and burst through the blockade… sometimes causing much devastation. Though I’ve enjoyed my time away from words, my imagination has progressively gathered much power and it would appear, much rage. I believe it is time to release it.  Let’s see what it has to say. Editorial 2007-09-12T15:05:00-05:00