The Joy of Your Heart

Some days are rougher than others when you’re dealing with a long distance relationship. Especially when there is so much on the line. Finding that perfect person is rare, so you make an oath to overcome all obstacles, even that of seemingly overwhelming distance. You wait, you worry, you hope, you fear, you get lost in thoughts of Her and then drowned in doubts of what will come to be.

This is one of those days, though it, like all the days, possesses a tone that rises and falls with the moments. The biggest issue for now and the next week is that my Love is buried in joyful times. Why is this an issue, you ask? Because it is when our loved ones are in such a state that we must tread carefully so as not to disturb their happiness. Her happiness is so important to me. The expressions of my trials must remain as unspoken as possible.

It is during these times that I feel the most alone. I want to share the turbulence of my hours, but must protect her from myself. My feelings remain buried, leaking out here and there (mostly here, it seems). I try to comfort myself with the imagined sight of her smile, the imagined sound of her laughter, the myriad other expressions of joy that pour from her. I reach across 2000 miles to touch that happiness. And I smile because she is well.

Still, the need for an embrace or a small kiss or whispered words of encouragement does not go away. Like all human beings, I require the symbols of our Love to be present in my day-to-day. When those symbols fade, my mornings become melancholy and my dreams turn to nightmares.

I have lived in a state of isolation before. The need to curb expression is nothing new to me. But when there is a safe place to put aside the habits of old, it is difficult to not spend all of my time there. She is Home and I wish to forever live beneath the roof of our Love, no matter how much the weather may try to break that Home into dust.

My Love. You are out there somewhere. You are happy. Know that my thoughts are with you. And that you live deep in my heart, no matter what obstacles the world chooses to place in our way. The wait is almost over and I am coming. And all will be right with the world as we lose ourselves in each other’s arms.

- JM

Thinkin' about a Girl (again)

Sitting here, drinking my first cup of the day, and realizing why love is an addiction.

Coffee

When I wake up in the morning,

You’re the first thing in my head.

Struggle with gravity,

As I struggle out of bed.

Stumble to the kitchen,

Without a thought of eating.

My eyes are on the prize,

Of that 7am greeting.

Cause baby, you’re my coffee,

Doll, you’re my coffee.

First thought in the morning,

Leave me shaking all night.

You occupy my mind,

Like you occupy my cup.

And after that first taste of you,

I know it’s not enough.

I know it’s too late,

I know that I’m hooked,

I know I can’t stop,

Addicted and infatuated.

Cause darling you’re my coffee,

And I’ll drink you all day.

Keep you close to me always,

Never let you slip away.

You satisfy my urges,

And inspire my mind.

With your warm, wet flavor,

And the coarseness of your grind.

So let me have you in the morning,

Let me have you at work,

Let me have you anytime,

That I’m feeling the urge.

Cause baby, you’re my coffee,

Doll, you’re my coffee.

First thought in the morning,

Leave me shaking all night.

Without my coffee,

The day is a misery.

Without you, baby,

I’d rather be asleep.

A Touch More Melancholy

It seems the thoughts won't sit still today. So much to do, yet the mind is so preoccupied. The same thing, over and over. I can already tell this is going to be a very tiresome day. Will you be there to help me endure? That question used to be so easy to answer... Now, I have no answers. All I can do is await yours.

Waiting for Echoes

Cold and alone, I sit at the edge of the precipice,

2000 miles between you and I.

I scream across the gap,

“Hello? Are you there?”

And count the minutes,

That stretch into hours,

Until the echo comes back to me.

Struggle On

Every thought consumed,

Every hour devoured,

By the effort to make things whole.

My back bends,

My mind tires,

Under the weight of the struggle.

My fingers pause,

No words come,

I am weary from the war.

So I await your whisper in my ear,

Words to tell me “Struggle on.”

Unable to move until I hear you,

Unable to fight without your help,

Or until I finally forget,

How much I am missing you.

Unspoken

Hand in hand we walk,

You, like a child beside me,

Eyes wide and joyful.

That joy infects me.

You run ahead and around in circles,

My steps are slow with my burden.

And I want so much to ask you,

“Will you help me carry this weight?”

But say nothing,

For I am too afraid.

That you will run away,

To find easier games to play.

Melancholy Thoughts for a Melancholy Morning

There is no doubt that a long-distance relationship can be a terrible and vicious thing. The absence and limitations of time and space make even simplest things incredibly difficult at times. With the effort of both parties, these trials can be overcome and moments of separation turned into experiences of each other that bring joy.
But what happens when those experiences begin to fall by the wayside? When the effort to maintain contact and reassure each other "Yes, I am still here. Yes, I am still thinking of you. Yes, I can't go a day without losing myself in you, if only for the brief moment that the busy world allows" dwindles into trace elements.
We all get caught up in life and anxiety. But then, isn't the overcoming of those obstacles the very nature of Love? If we ask to be supported in our efforts to bridge the gap of space and time, should we not expect an enthusiastic response from the one who loves us?

Sometimes I lose my faith. Without her to renew it, I do not know if it will return. And when she explains to me in so many words why she can't be around, all I can hear is "I have games to play, time to pass, idle hours to waste. My mind has no time for thoughts of you anymore. The television is calling, and you must wait. Internet distractions are calling, and you must wait. My need to relax and unwind is calling, and I have no effort to give when it comes to us."

Am I being selfish in my need? Or am I being treated like one more game - play with me when I am desirable, put me on the shelf when she'd rather be doing something else.

These days, it becomes increasingly difficult to tell one state of being from the other. I really hope it's just a phase, for both of us...

5 Minutes

What once was a storm,

Has turned into a drizzle.

Once we shared every moment,

Now we share so few.

The weariness of time and space,

It takes its toll.

And now as the day grows closer,

There is little left.

Little left to remind me,

Of what we were to become.

Of who you are,

Those many miles away.

You say the digital world,

Has become your bane.

Yet the Internet speaks to me,

Of telltale traces.

As you make your way through,

The artificial world.

Hours to pass in idle leisure,

With your nemesis.

Yet when I ask for 5 minutes,

You tell me “maybe”.

And it makes me doubt,

And wonder,

How you have so much time to play,

Yet no time to play with me.

She's Always on My Mind

It seems I can't go an hour without drifting back to her. At least tonight my mind is very insistent on me continuing in this vein. First one way and then the other... it all gets so confusing sometimes. And I'm so very, very tired. Still, the mind does not take well to rest when consumed with visions. Lucky for me, the visions have turned pleasant.

And so I present another poem (is it even a poem if there are no rhymes?).

When someone is so very far away, there are only so many ways to bring yourself closer to them. I've often found the best way to do this is to simply close my eyes. Close my eyes and dwell upon all things that ensnared me in this blissful state of co-being. Well, all the things that are proper to speak of when there might be an audience listening...

Luckily, I have a strong imagination and a talent for visualization. While this is not always a boon (particularly when it comes time to enter my worried state of mind), at times like these it is most welcome. For all I must do is close my eyes, and we are closer to together already.

With Closed Eyes:

As quickly as the dawn can turn to midday,

If you close your eyes and forget that time is passing,

So too the ways my mind shifts,

In its visions of you.

The doubts melt away, the imagination takes a new path.

I remember all the things that inspire my love.

I close my eyes and see you smiling at me,

Our hearts filled with joy.

I listen to the music of your laughter,

Watching the cute way you cover your mouth with your hand,

A shyness unnecessary in my presence,

Though the gesture makes me smile every time.

I see the gentle curves of your skin,

The perfect way your pieces come together.

Each and every view of you a gift of angel’s graces,

A challenge to my lack of faith in God.

I close my eyes tightly and imagine,

Imagine you are here with me right now.

And I imagine your eyes blossom,

As they shift…

From wonder (listen to this new thing I discovered!)

To outrage (what has he done to my precious Star Trek!?)

To fear (the world is filled with so many frightening things…)

To childlike joy (I must tell you of the many delights of ponies!)

To self-conscious ridiculousness (my pretend beach has no sand…)

To enthusiasm (is it May yet?)

To worry (why did I choose this artist’s path?)

To adoration (your words are so wonderful!)

To creation (I have this project that I’m working on…)

To Love (you are always in my heart and mind)

To countless other bursts of your truest soul.

Some born of reality,

Other just a product of my curious speculation.

All just as beautiful,

All just as captivating,

All small pieces,

Of the perfect song that is you


Always dreaming of you, my precious gift.

- Jason McAnelly

Thoughts of a Girl

Given that no one reads my book, my author profile has taken a turn for the dusty.

So I now deem it to be a place of poetry! Rejoice!

My life's events are complicated right now. I'm in love with a girl quite far away from me. I've been in love with her for a year-and-a-half. Though she did not always know it. Things evolved, words were spoken and now we sit, each in our own corner of the world, wondering what comes next.

Like all love, the elation drove us onward at first. Now the truth of the events sets in - we are so very far away from each other. Not to say that this is an obstacle insurmountable. But to two writers, both tangled in the complexities of a world that barely has a reasoned order to our uniquely scattered perceptions... the world of the mind becomes heavy with doubts.

Doubts that can only be settled with the passage of time. With the finding of a key in a cat's belly. With the sharing of laughter and the sharing of kisses. With the holding of hands while watching that one television show we really want the other to see. With the dispelling of tales of demons come to haunt, of betrayals waiting just around the corner, of sadness imminently hunting us, of finding that our minds somehow lied when they told us that we were in Love...

Doubts that could be shattered with a simple meeting of the eyes.

There is nothing I want more in the world.

And there is nothing I fear more than losing Us before we have even been found.

Which leads to my poem...

Shadows:

Electric sobs, pixilated tears, I know of your pain but only feel echoes.

Seeking to touch you through the unseen waves of cyberspace,

To hold you close, to let your worries drain upon my shoulder,

But falling short every time.

All I can do is stand here, isolated and 2000 miles away.

The pain of my impotence driving me under.

Thoughts to comfort you filtered from five senses down to two.

Searching out that laugh, that joy in your voice.

Some sign that I have touched you truly,

That my intentions were not broken into digital format,

Scrambled and reassembled,

A barbed tongue now replacing gentle words.

And I wonder if I can be your strength,

When my arms are trapped in another place,

Only my fingertips working to make clear my love,

Dancing across the keyboard.

Sent by a mind in flux,

Those words becoming tangled and illegible.

And I fear that time when I finally come close to you,

That I will fail in my duties, that my promises will break.

Or that you will see the truth in me,

And discover that it is not what you first thought.

That I am madness,

A disease that can only pollute your purest heart.

You will look into my shadowed soul,

See the flaws and the pain,

And wish them away again.

The regrets of a decision made with hope in the heart.

Within the shadows a great man was waiting,

But there was no great man after all.

And if you're reading this, MJ, know that I Love you like nothing else. And if you are not, then I hope my thoughts catch on a loose strand of bandwidth and download into your dreams tonight.

- Jason McAnelly

Free Books!

Smashwords is having a special promotion right now that runs through this Saturday. My book will be free as will thousands of other eBooks. Check it out now and pay nothing! And load up on indie books to read. Support the lesser-known author by picking up their work and giving them some reviews.

Walls of Stone (Grey Spaces, Book I) - For FREE!

Read My Book For Free!

In an effort to promote my book, I have decided to offer up a free Smashwords coupon. If you enjoy the book, feel free to distribute to anyone else you think might like it. It does expire on the 10th of February, however, so if you're interested, act fast.

Coupon Code: ZP27R

You can redeem it by clinking on this Smashwords Link.

And if you'd like to leave a review when you're done, that would make my day.

And, of course, thanks to all who have already read and enjoyed the book.

- JM

Lost To Books: Book Spotlight & Excerpt ~ Walls of Stone (Grey Spaces, Book I)

Well, my first author spotlight is here. Hopefully this will encourage people to check the book out?



Lost To Books: Book Spotlight & Excerpt ~ Walls of Stone (Grey Sp...

The Book Trudges On

While the launch of my book was certainly not as successful as I had hoped, I suppose a little pre-marketing might have helped the situation a bit. Alas, I am in the dark when it comes to these sorts of things.
In the end, there's nothing to do for it except sit around and wait for the reviews to come in. Hopefully, they are good. And hopefully, those 9 people that have purchased a copy of Walls of Stone during the last week are all inclined to leave a review.

Again, if you've stumbled in here accidentally, please feel free to check out the free samples of the book and, if it looks like something you might want to read, purchase a copy for the low, low price of $2.99!

And now, some links:

To the Smashwords site (all formats).
And to the Amazon site (kindle format only).

Author Interview

So one of the sites I am publishing through - Smashwords - has this little author interview thing you can fill out. So I filled it out. Here is the link, for those interested:

Jason McAnelly Smashwords Interview

Grey Spaces, Book I: Walls of Stone - Finally Available!

So I pressed the final buttons this morning and now my book is available for download. While I will be providing many links to various sites where you can find it, here is the first of them. Buying from Smashwords has the benefit of allowing you to choose any eBook format, including computer-friendly versions if you don't happen to have an eReader. You can also download multiple versions for one price, in case you want to have the book on various devices.

Grey Spaces, Book I: Walls of Stone (@Smashwords)

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed putting it together.

In the Beginning...

I figured that since random people are wandering in to read this, that I may as well put out a sample of what my book is about.  So here is the first 923 words of Grey Spaces, Book I: Walls of Stone.  Enjoy.

            Jasmine hated walls.
            Staring across the normally hidden landscape of rooftops and empty space, the young rogue rested her defiant glare upon the towering stone cage that surrounded the ghetto she called home. Bleak and impassive, the weather-worn granite barrier gazed back at her with disdain. Eventually, she was forced to concede a temporary defeat in the pointless staring match, though it did nothing but stoke the furnace of her hatred.
            To Jasmine, those monoliths of cracked, stone blocks were the very antithesis of every passionate movement in her head or heart. Walls meant confinement. Walls meant separation. Walls were malevolent specters lurking hidden like parasites in the mind even as they loomed in plain sight, lording themselves over those that walked in their shadows. They tormented the lives of the imprisoned, daily reminding them with forbidding sternness that they were not free. And though Jasmine had little trouble navigating her own way past the enclosure when the need arose, the very sight of them sparked a rage that boiled her blood.
            Still, she could not keep her eyes from returning to them again and again.
            Beaten once more, Jasmine turned her head toward the setting sun, tracking the fiery ball’s progress as it made the long, slow decent to the horizon. Perched on the corner of a tenement and well above the milling crowds of the streets below, the girl welcomed the coming of night and the darkness that accompanied it. If the god of luck saw fit to kiss her hand that evening, she would be using that darkness to ascend to a world much brighter.
            The rogue reached up and gave a tug to the black tichel wrapped about her head, ensuring that it was secure. Sliding her lithe hands down to her ankles, she checked the snugness of her greaves. Fingers tugged at laces and pulled at buckles all over her body as she tested each piece of the black, night-leathers that made up her roofrunning uniform. It was the fifth time she had done so in less than an hour, a habit that would have appeared as neurotic to any outside observer but one born of years of experience. A keen attention to detail was, after all, a runner’s stock and trade.
            Quite against her will, Jasmine’s eyes returned again to the wall. She found herself musing, as was often her habit, on the fortification’s sinister purpose. The imposing structure of stone was an obstacle built for one reason alone - to ensure that the city-sized populace of the East-block stayed securely in their urban pen, not quite animals and not quite people either. The masters responsible for erecting it (well before the girl’s time) had been determined in their desire to keep the poverty-ridden streets of Porsham Grand’s ghettos separate from the city proper. A stone cage had served them well.
            The walls kept the unwanted in and served to discourage those of means from trespassing into the lives of the wretched, from even contemplating notions of charity or community. The end result was that the ghettos had become their own communities within the larger cityscape of Porsham Grand. The laws of House and King ruled, but were not enforced. Guards and soldiers stayed away unless circumstance demanded their attention. And economies of a different sort had sprung into being, interacting with the outside world only when necessary.
            Of course, every cage has its doors. Residents of the East-block who were capable of providing some service for the respectable population of the city could use these doors to flee their fate, if only for a short while. The vast majority of these temporary escapees consisted of day-laborers, prostitutes and foreigners far from home and possessed of exotic or extraordinary skills. When the rich demanded the desperate, the unique, the unseemly or all of these, then the rabble were allowed to mix and mingle with the merchants, travelers, soldiers and nobility that kept the coffers of the ruling merchant Houses flush with gold. Those tax-paying citizens of means were, after all, the true residents of the city. The ghetto-dwellers were tools. Used as needed, discarded at convenience.
            But at the end of the day, even the most skilled or compliant of the ghetto’s inhabitants could not hold onto their false freedom. By the laws of the Houses (under the guise of kingly proclamation, of course), proper papers were required to walk the avenues of the outside world. In theory, this meant that all those in the city should be carrying proof of legitimacy. In practice, the guards never checked documents unless they wanted something. More than a few of Porsham Grand’s “proper” citizens had ended their night in a ghetto because they had simply forgotten they even needed papers. The ghetto-dwellers, however, knew to be more vigilant. Should you be caught outside the walls after dusk and without official approval, the guards were at liberty to arrest you. Should they feel a bit of sport in order, they could do much worse. A few coins could often solve the problem, but most that walked the streets of poverty could barely find food for their bellies, let alone afford to line the pockets of a greedy thug.
            People begged, people broke, people complied or died. The weight of invisible slavery rested on their shoulders, bending them to an unseen will. They became predators and prey and corpses floating in the sewer. All this due to a thirty-foot high, ten-foot thick pile of cut stone.
            She hated those fucking walls.

Information on when and where the book will be available shall be forthcoming sometime in the next week.

Hurrah! My book cover is finished!

Most of the people coming through here will have already seen the cover for the book, I'm sure, as the primary link to this blog will be contained within the book that has this cover.  Still, it's always exciting when something new happens with regards to the publication of a book.  While the actual novel still has about a week left in the formatting department, the other last piece of the puzzle is now done.  A combined effort of amazing artist Hollyfay Compton and graphic designer eroticbuddha have created this:

I'm really digging it myself.  Hopefully those that see the thumbnail floating through the eBook sites as they scroll through thousands of books will be intrigued enough to look deeper.  And hopefully I can keep my cover team around to do Grey Spaces, Book II when that happens.

Thanks for reading and, if you happen to be someone that wandered through and haven't read the book yet, stay tuned for the actual release (sometime in the next week) when I get the pleasure of posting links to where you can find it.  The price will be the hefty sum of 99-cents, so hopefully people can afford it.  :)

Welcome to the Grey Spaces Blog!

Well, here I am, in an empty room. My book is about to be published so I figure it might be a good thing to keep a running blog. If that's what you are searching for, then look no further.

I do apologize for the lack of content. It's brand new and I've yet to think of clever things to say. Rest assured, I will find some words to post here... eventually.

The chief goal of this blog is for people to ask questions and comment on the book. The secondary function is for me to have yet another place to announce progress towards the second book in the series, Grey Spaces, Book II: Walls of Iron.

I will also be announcing the occasional publication of a short story. I want my readers to have something to chew on during the long process of creating the second book, plus there are many stories in the world of Dlorwyn that simply won't find their way into any proper novel. Thus, I shall instead write them up and publish them in eBook format. They will be offered free of charge, so don't worry about having to shell out any extra dough.  :)

Anyways, I think that's all I have to say for now. Just a few more days until all the particulars are dealt with and the book goes live. Hopefully, sometime soon, there will be someone else in here with me. Maybe then I'll have something clever to say.

Until next time, read everything in sight,

- JM