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    Radio Free Steve Volume One Memorial Daze 2014 Scream of Consciousness
    Radio Free Steve Volume One Memorial Daze 2014 Scream of Consciousness
    Radio Free Steve Volume One Memorial Daze 2014 Scream of Consciousness
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    Radio Free Steve Volume One Memorial Daze 2014 Scream of Consciousness

    By Steve Zakszewski

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    About this ebook

    Faced with a case of writer's block on my current project, I decided to take Memorial Day weekend and just cut loose with stream of consciousness babblings/rantings/cleverness-- choose your term. The result is amusing, bizarre, pointed, and occasionally even funny. Riffing off the TV, drunks in bars, the UCSB mass shooting, the NSA, ice cream, and so much more. Buy the ticket, take the ride. And for what I'm charging, it's a cheap ride indeed. Enjoy!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSteve Zakszewski
    Release dateMay 29, 2014
    ISBN9780985641429
    Radio Free Steve Volume One Memorial Daze 2014 Scream of Consciousness
    Author

    Steve Zakszewski

    Hello there! Thanks for checking out my profile. I am a native New Englander now living in Brooklyn NY with my faithful cat Piersich, a large loveable sherbet tabby with an unfortunately tiny pinhead. Your purchase of my books will keep us in kibble, beer, and pizza, for which we will be very grateful. American Loser was my first novel, the culmination of 10+ years of writings that began with random crazed late-night writings on Livejournal that I called "Radio Free Steve". They were pure gonzo stream-of-consciousness ravings in which something popped into my head and I just ran with it, with no concern where it might go. After several years of these writings, I saw common thread that ran through some of them and, prodded by friends who kept telling me I had a way with words and should really write a book, I bit the bullet. Well, I nibbled on it for about 10 years, finally getting the grand push I needed when my life went to hell and I split from the then-wife and ended up living at the House of Yes artist squat/circus performance space. They rented me a live-in studio space and I was shamed into finishing the book. Not that this was bad- it was the kick in the ass needed and I was surrounded by creative and crazed sorts who were pursuing their particular arts as well and succeeding at it. Failure would have been humiliating. But not only didn't I fail, I did pretty damn good. I'm currently working on my second major novel, "Carter Corner". In the interim, faced with a Memorial Day holiday weekend lacking in plans and a case of the writer's blahs, I decided to go old-school and churn out a stream of consciousness piece, "Radio Free Steve". It was a lot of fun to write and I do hope you enjoy it. RFS/Memorial Daze 2014 is volume one-- there will be others. When, I don't know. In the meantime, do enjoy my works and again, thanks!

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      Book preview

      Radio Free Steve Volume One Memorial Daze 2014 Scream of Consciousness - Steve Zakszewski

      Radio Free Steve

      Volume One Memorial Daze 2014

      scream

      A stream of consciousness novella

      by

      Steve Zakszewski

      A Curse the Darkness Book

      Brooklyn/Boston/Deering/New Orleans/Amsterdam

      First Electronic Edition

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2014

      All Rights Reserved

      ISBN 0985641428 and 978-0-9856414-2-9

      Written in 11 point Georgia for your pleasure during the Memorial Day holiday weekend, 2014.

      Also by Steve Zakszewski

      American Loser

      Dedicated to my family, my cat and best buddy Piersich, and to all the wonderful folks who have made my living experience here in NYC so damn interesting.

      A shout-out to Lauren, Mel, Althea and Sarah, as well as the owner/man of mystery Lou at the Canal Bar for the booze and smiles. Every writer needs a bar to call home.

      Thanks to Ralph Steadman, director Charlie Paul, and Jim Caruso and Chip Watkins of Flying Dog Brewery for an amazing and inspiring three days of Gonzo during the opening of For No Good Reason that gave me a sorely-needed kick in the ass and a grin that lasted for weeks.

      And thank you for checking out my little slice of madness. Enjoy! -SZ

      A Brief Introduction

      Welcome to Radio Free Steve. Years ago, I used to have a blog on Livejournal. It's still there- look it up. My screen name was Sonofabish. I miss LJ. It was fun and its format was far better suited for long-format writing than Facebook and Twitter. Sometimes I'd get home late at night from a party or whatever and be wound up, so I'd sit down at the computer and write whatever the hell came into my mind. Total stream of consciousness stuff and sometimes the piece even made some sense, but if not, oh well. Let the words flow with no concern about where, if anyplace, they led. No destination necessary.

      And now, here it is, the cusp of Memorial Day weekend, and I find myself totally without plans. I've been working on a novel, my second, but I've reached a roadblock and am frustrated. I feel the need to do something to get back into the swing of writing-- get the rhythm flowing again, toss off the restrictions of keeping plot and characters straight. What to do, what to do?

      Then it hit me-- old school. Radio Free Steve. Just write like back in the old days. Back to stream of consciousness. Turn down the lights, throw on some music, toss whatever chemicals into the system to loosen up the brain, and let it rip. Decision made, let's do it, so here it is, Thursday night. Keep the document open until I go to bed Monday, take a day or two after and give it a quick edit for grammar and spelling, and then publish this hot mess, warts and all. Maybe it will suck or maybe I'll be hailed as some sort of literary genius. Of course I'd prefer the latter, but if it's the former, will anything in my life really change?

      Nope.

      Buy the ticket, take the ride. Hunter S Thompson famously wrote that and goddamn, he was right. So, here I am, sliding my $5 bill to the ticket agent and taking my ticket to... where, exactly?

      Don't really care. And now it's time to climb aboard. So whaddya say-- wanna join me? And a quick note here- this is Volume One. There may be more in the future. Or not. But for now, away we go!

      SZ

      Brooklyn, NY 11:54pm 5/22/14

      Friday 5/23/14

      12:20am Time to start this puppy. Took me a few minutes to get the space just right. I have a comfy apartment, especially for the rent I pay here in Brooklyn in a fairly non-descript neighborhood that certainly isn't any sort of destination for folks looking for a wild time in Brooklyn. Well, unless they care to come by my place and bring the wild times along, or they are going to patronize the one tiny bit of nightlife, a Russian pool hall/night club that is the only source of noise and trouble in the neighborhood at night. But even so, it's not like living in Manhattan, where even in the finest neighborhoods you get drunks screaming and puking at 4am outside your window, people getting stabbed, run over by cabs, and having demons both real and imagined tormenting them to the point of screaming.

      And let's not forget the goddamn clinking of bottles. Armies of homeless people wander the city with carts and bags, scavenging in the trash for a nickle's worth of lucre. I don't begrudge them that, but damn... the fucking CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK RUMMAGE RUMMAGE RUMMAGE CLINK CLINK CLINK all night long is maddening.

      But none of that here. Nope. If anyone's noisy right now, it's me. Got the Stones' Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out on the stereo, laying down the rhythm for the writing. Not too shabby a rhythm section-- Mick, Keith, Bryan (or was it Mick T), Bill, and Charlie. A person could do far far worse. Lock it down, boys- 4/4 fuck the world. Perfect rhythm for writing, fighting, fucking. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Duck, bob, weave, stick in the jab, work the ribs, wear 'em down, look for the hands to drop a little low and then WHAM bring the right cross to the chin and send them to what used to be called (admiringly) Palookaville but now we call a trip to the hospital to get MRId to check for a concussion and long-term brain damage.

      Tough way to earn a buck, and if you do, you've got to pay your agent and business manager and the tax man and of course spring for your entourage to start the party and keep it going. Fuck long-term plans. The future is now! Which is why these folks are called fighters and not investment bankers.

      Not that I'm one to talk. Oh hell no. 49 years on this planet and in terms of a retirement nest egg, let's just say I'm practically a vegan. Ain't nothing here that's popped out of a chicken, either real or metaphorical. But let's try to ignore that. Few who go into the business of writing amount to more than sad desperate souls, forced to take jobs that, while they might not hate them (and have on some occasions been known to – gasp-- enjoy them!), it's certainly not the preferred way to earn the lucre necessary to get through life.

      Nope. We envision ourselves as talented little fuckers and believe we should be generously rewarded for our ability to punch the keys on our computers in patterns that are pleasing to the reader. Of course, we all wake up in the middle

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