Thursday, August 13, 2009

A moment, please.

There's something to be said for a perfectly maintained field of Kentucky blue grass. Its blades, cut to a precise 1.28 inches, fairly beg for the touch of a hand, a foot, a body cupped in its taut blades. A single step from your bare sole reveals its springy, yet prickled self. The scent of the moment, the earthy, fresh aroma surrounds you as you move into the field. It tickles your soul and your feet as you walk to the center. You sit, then lie back; you close your eyes and feel. Yes, there is something to be said for this moment.


Sunday, August 9, 2009

The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-Shirts: Chapter One

Last week, I posted the introduction to my latest tome, The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-Shirts. This week, I present chapter one to the Interweb community. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, but most of all, I hope it will bring you a fuller understanding of the universe.

Chapter One: Definition by Negation

The concept of a dress t-shirt is unfathomable to some. Most people will experience extreme doubt and confusion when first exposed to the principles in this book. Are dress t-shirts real? Will I ever be able to identify them on my own? And will they really change my life?

I am here to tell you that the answers are yes, yes, and YES. But to ease your entry into the dress t-shirt waters, I will start you off slow. First, we will define what is NOT a dress t-shirt, for the highest presence is absence.

We will start off with an easy one: the tank top (figure one). Despite what you may have heard at the laundromat, a tank top is not considered formal enough for anything more than a holiday picnic with family and close friends.

The next one is a bit tougher. What could be more formal than a tuxedo shirt? With ruffles? What about a ruffled tuxedo t-shirt?

Unfortunately, this is a trick question. A true dress t-shirt does not feel the need to represent itself as anything OTHER THAN a t-shirt. A true dress t-shirt stands proudly on its own and states, "I am here. I am a t-shirt. And I am business casual."

I know by this point your head is reeling. You're wondering if you will ever get the hang of this dress t-shirt thing. I'm here to tell you, you will. Believe in yourself, believe in your clothes, and use the information in this book, and all will be well. All manner of things will be well. But to avoid driving you into sensory overload, I will give just one final example. This is the most common mistake the dress t-shirt rookie is likely to make. And that mistake is:

Wearing a dress t-shirt that is, literally, a dress. Ask yourself this question: would I have to hike my t-shirt up to do any of the following?

  • Sit down
  • Retrieve my wallet/keys
  • Run
  • Use the restroom
  • Walk across a large puddle

If the answer to one or more items is "yes," then you are not wearing a dress t-shirt. You are wearing a t-shirt dress. And you desperately need to purchase another copy of this book.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-Shirts (Intro)

I'm currently shopping my nonfiction masterpiece, The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-shirts, around to different agents and editors. In the meantime, I've decided that the world can't live without this information. So I will be posting it here for all my Project4Word friends. If you like it, invite a friend. If you don't, invite an enemy. In either case, make sure it's someone who can use this information to make the world a better place. Enjoy!


Why a dress t-shirt?

Walter walked into the party and surveyed the crowd. The stereo was blasting classic Kool and the Gang, while a Lothario in leather chaps chatted up a beautiful red head in the corner. Walter noticed, only too late, that he was severely under-dressed for this soiree. His wife, Thelma, had tried to warn him, but he had ignored her advice--at his own peril, as he now realized. If only Walter had been able to read...

The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-shirts

What man has not found himself in a predicament such as Walter's? A place and time where a tank top is too informal, but a polo is overkill? The answer is: no man, except perhaps for George Clooney (and there is mounting evidence that he is a cyborg--see Appendix A).

This book is designed to help you obtain, organize, and fully utilize dress t-shirts. The truths are harsh, but the payoff is immeasurable. I'll be glad to hear your success stories (and believe me, a dress t-shirt is every man's secret to success), but due to the overwhelming number of responses I am sure to get, don't be offended if I don't respond to you personally. Please, use the information in this book for good and not evil. This is your guide into the glamorous world of...dress t-shirts.

4stories: Bent

The door slam echoed around him. Mitch froze. His lungs leaked air in a slow, steady wheeze until empty; his mouth worked the air like a fish pulled from the water. It was as though he'd forgotten how to breathe. A darkness--darker than closing his eyes or his bedroom in the dead of night--surrounded him and pressed in on him. Panic wrung the last of the oxygen from his lungs as his lips puckered in response.

Then, a hefty slap to his back caused Mitch to sputter and cough and finally, breathe.

"Here," hissed a voice next to his ear. Mitch felt something smooth and round being shoved into his hand and jumped. A shiver climbed his spine as the area around him began to glow. "A green orber. Hmmm..." the voice whispered again.

Mitch glanced behind him and saw a very tall and very thin man. His lanky looks didn't stop with his body and, in fact, were more pronounced in his face. With a chin and cheeks sharp enough to cut glass, Mitch wondered how his skin fit over his bones. Then, the thin man's mouth stretched into a grotesque smile revealing small childish teeth, all perfectly strain and abnormally white. Mitch stepped back, stepped away from this man--he wanted to run but had no where to run. He didn't even know where he was since he clearly was not in the cellar anymore. Or was he?

"Stop," Thin man said, the smile wiped from his face. His hand cut the air as he gestured behind Mitch, beyond the green glow. "Nevo is there. You don't want him to know you're here. He wouldn't like it."

"Who is Nevo? What are you doing in my cellar?"

"Shh. Nevo is the keeper and this isn't your cellar. But you already know that." The gruesome smile returned and he crooked his boney finger. "Come."

Mitch hesitated. He knew better than to go with strangers.

The thin man turned away. He walked with a see-saw motion towards the edge of the light. "You have nothing to return to, that is, if you could return." His hissing whisper turned into wheezing laughter.

Mitch held the orb in front of him and spun around in a slow careful circle. Nothing. As far as his eyes could see there was nothing but blackness. Sounds started emerging from around him--clicking, breathing and rustling.

Thin Man's disembodied head appeared in the ring of light. "You'd be better off with me than one of the others."

"Others?" Mitch asked, his voice timid and squeaky.

"Oh yes. They wait there for me to leave you." His hand came from the darkness and pointed behind Mitch. "Do you want me to leave you here then? Or will you come with me?"

He knew going with Thin Man was not a good idea but he was sure staying would be equally bad. The rustling and breathing around him had become louder almost drowning out the loud beating of Mitch's own racing heart.

He glanced around him one more time before walking into the darkness. Thin Man's raspy laughter echoed against the surroundings as the other noises settled into a hush. Mitch had made his choice. Now he had to live with it.