Today’s guest post is from acclaimed writer and editor, Michael LaRocca. Look out for ‘The Boatman’s Getting Restless’ and ‘A Modern Epic’, coming soon to Lit Bits as a bonus double bill.
Before you can write a story, you have to be so comfortable with each of your characters that you can slip into his or her skin and become that character, both in your mind and in your heart. Like acting, except that you don’t have to act.
So I’ve spent the past few months being a 6000-year-old gay hermaphrodite space alien.
Well, actually, several of them. Since I was driving and listening to Devo, I was obviously Cronus. Devo and Cronus always go together. Even Blind Homer could see that.
If I’d been on my bicycle I’d have been Hephaestus. I’ll spare you the other Titans for now. Along with an explanation of why I called Hephaestus a Titan.
I was putting some cat food in the car when I heard angry hostile violent shouts. And like Cronus, I just dropped my stuff and rushed over to the scene of the crime, ready to break it up.
Turns out it was some guys watching TV outside the sports bar when Cam Newton (Carolina Panthers’ QB) threw an interception. They were raging at the game, not at each other.
Bye, Cronus. Hello, Michael. What a relief. Fifteen angry youths might be a bit much for me.
Then I remembered that my blistered feet were hurting. I’d forgotten those in the adrenaline. I blistered them trying to hike like Cronus. He’s homeless by choice, so he walks a lot.
My next stop was to walk a dog. Part of my new part-time job. I never followed my own dogs with plastic bags because we lived in the country. (Shout out to Watha and Burgaw.) But in the city, I pick up the poop.
The second poop wasn’t even from my dog. It was much too large. She just had to sniff until I picked it up. It was probably from a very large dog, because we don’t have homeless people in this part of town.
Is that too much information?
I suppose that was my inner Hephaestus picking up the poop. Cronus would’ve just laughed at the shit.
Loki would’ve picked it up, set the bag on fire, and left it on your front porch, but I haven’t been in his skin. Yet.
You can find Michael here: