3 Day Quote Challenge ~ Heaven Help The Weak

I was invited by the lovely blogger Stephanie Ortez (thank you), of Collected Essays of The Anxious Mind to participate in the 3 day Quote Challenge on the theme of sadness.

I have chosen not to write about the recent tragic events and massacres unfolding on a global scale, but to look back and reexamine where we have been. To ponder how many mountaintop peaks and ocean depths there are separating and dividing society.

How do we find our way back to respect and basic human kindness?

My belief and hope remains in the children. They are our best and only way back to love.

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Heaven Help the Weak

by Jacqueline Cioffa  2000

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Please God I am asking for help

A little guidance

Buddha can you hear me?

Do we deserve hate for this lifetime?

Or can we find a little peace and happiness

Heaven help the weak at heart

For they are not weak, but sensitive

Let me be strong, yet kind

And always considerate

Let me turn towards poetry and words of inspiration

Let my light be white and clean

For I do believe

You gave me the gift of freedom

Freedom of choice

 

Challenge Rules:

Post three consecutive days.
You can pick one or three quotes per day.
Challenge three different bloggers per day.

 

While I’m honored to participate, I’m choosing not to challenge another blogger. These are highly sensitive times, where privacy and time to process personally is critical. If however there is a blogger (or two) who would like to join in and accept the challenge please do so on my behalf.

 

 

#BOOK FEATURE: THE PINK MARINE by Greg White Cope

I am thrilled and proud to present the hilarious and touching The Pink Marine by the multi-talented author Greg White Cope with Querelle Press.

 

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​TITLE: The Pink Marine
AUTHOR: Greg Cope White
PUBLISHER: Querelle Press
DATE OF PUBLICATION: October 21, 2015

 

BLURB:

When Greg Cope White’s best friend tells him he is spending his summer in Marine Corps boot camp, all Greg hears is “summer” and “camp.”

Despite dire warnings from his friend, Greg vows to join him in recruit training. He is eighteen, underweight, he’s never run a mile—and he is gay.

It’s 1979—long before Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, the Supreme Court marriage equality ruling, and with no LGBT rights in place in most states, and the Marines having a very definite expulsion policy in place for gay people when it comes to military personnel, will Greg even survive?

The Pink Marine is the story—full of hilarity and heartbreak—of how a teenage boy who struggles with self-acceptance and his sexuality and doesn’t fit the traditional definition of manliness finds acceptance and self-worth in Marine Corps boot camp.

PRAISE:

“A great story beautifully told—surprising, funny, courageous and inspiring.”
— David Hyde-Pierce

“The Marines got a great soldier out of it. And we civilians got a great author. This is the story of how, through pure gumption, a most unlikely Marine candidate rises to the occasion to show his true colors!”
— Jane Lynch

“Greg is as inspirational as he is hilarious—I love this book!”
​—Margaret Cho

 

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AUTHOR BIO:

A card-carrying member of the Writer’s Guild and SAG, Greg’s a produced television writer. He also steps in front of the camera and hosts. ​The Pink Marine is his first book.

His writing credits include HBO’s Dream On, Norman Lear’s The Powers That Be and 704 Hauser, Fox’s Life With Louie, Sony’s animated series Jumanji, and Disney’s Social Studies. He currently has a sitcom in development with Norman Lear’s Act III.

He writes television, film, and articles for publication. He’s a member of The Association of Food Journalists and James Beard (his major passions are food and storytelling).

He appears on this season’s Unique Sweets on the Cooking Channel.

He also shot a pilot for Food Network as host & cook for a food and travel adventure show and competed on Mark Burnett’s TV show On The Menu in 2014.

He writes articles for The Huffington Post and Good Men Project, and most recently his memoir of his time in the Marine Corps–The Pink Marine (available everywhere books are sold 10/15).

Veterans Writing Project and Military Experience and the Arts include chapters from his memoir in their print editions of collected short stories – he’s honored, and bought 5 copies for his mother.

His memoir, The Pink Marine is also being developed for a TV series by Rachel Davidson and Pamela Oas Williams (The Butler, The Amazing Spider Man ….) .

 



 

AROUND THE WEB:

THE PINK MARINE thepinkmarine.com

FACEBOOK: EAT GREG EAT https://www.facebook.com/EatGregEat/

EAT GREG EAT BLOG: Eat Greg Eat

TWITTER: https://twitter.com/eatgregeat

GOOGLE +: https://plus.google.com/+GregWhite/posts

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/eatgregeat/

 

Please find links to buy The Pink Marine from all of your favorite booksellers on his fun website www.thepinkmarine.com

 

 

Forever Betrothed To The Night

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Forever Betrothed To The Night

By Jacqueline Cioffa

The rotten apple bobs atop the pond scum drowning and dunking under the sweet, brown silence of murky still waters.

And me, I understand.

In tune with the dark, the death concept softens the breath in an instant. My heart does not skip nor quicken under the harsh white rays of a chilled, September sun. It is calmed and quieted, intoxicated by the still-birth possibility.

The black and grey gravel, foreign misshapen pebbles, and boorish stones stab underfoot. They do not annoy me; I empathize with the rough surfaces and pierced, jagged edges. Bleed, I bleed forest green and dream of Parasol queen ghosts walking beside me. Heart shaped brown and red leaves curl and quiver in the breeze, hiding from the menacing sun discoloring their emerald green envy.

The Goldfinch dances above skimming over tree top branches in a frenzy. Pausing mere fractions of a beat, milliseconds, something I find intoxicating.

The obscure does not threaten, caressing the skin like a careful, thoughtful lover fully awakened and in tune. The dark washes free my sins baptizing the polluted thoughts, brain obstructions. There are no edges, disciples or boundaries in the midnight hour. The world is less loud, less demanding, less  everything the soul is expected.

The spirit feels safest alone; there is no need for words, responsibility or white noise complacency. The night and I are very much in love, betrothed and besotted to none other.

For the night and I agree; the light is purest, more radiant, more blinding and most magical undistracted.

Home, the night and I are at home in each other’s company. No false niceties, polite oddities. Solace is fondly found in the sweet dew evening. The sky blanketed by black oblivion. Only a splinter of smiling, silver crescent moon shines lovely in the evening.

Streetlights, the whirring nuisance jolt me back from daydream reality. Children’s raucous, the humdrum beat of the screaming orange basketball as dirty sneakers glide across the asphalt leave me weary and maudlin. The anarchy disappears behind closested shadow curtains and forty-watt, somber, dimly lit yellow bulbs. I don’t mind the absence, longing to fit in. I am enthralled, mesmerized and enchanted by the underbelly.

For the night and I are in too deep, too enamored with the quieting, melodic air wrapped and entwined inside the mysterious respites of the eve.

I am forever betrothed to the night, in love with the moon and the stars as I quietly walk the day’s thunder.

Nonfiction by Mark Blickley

Mark Blickley did for me what Robin Williams did for him. He was the first published author, kind, brilliant creative person to encourage me to write. I love this piece for obvious and many reasons. Thank you, Robin Williams for paying it forward in kind.

To bleed ink from her heart.

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For those of you that don’t know me and most don’t, I led a privileged life for many, many years. Traveled to exotic locales on somebody else’s dime lived in Paris, Milan, London, Barcelona, Madrid, Cape Town, Miami, Hollywood, NYC… I was a fashion model who earned a living from her looks.

The bizarre, crazy existence was the difficult lifestyle to explain. It was a job with bonanza benefits. I never took myself too seriously.

When my fashion career was over I had to reinvent myself. Makeup artist, why not? Started at ten bucks an hour and worked my way up counting Mariah Carey, Anne Hathaway, Sandra Bernhard, Connie Britton as clients. I had connections, and lots of help. Again, I didn’t take myself seriously. I knew how to coddle the celebs, after all I’d been on the their side for years.

My spirit was unsatisfied, intuition nagged this wasn’t it. This wasn’t what your supposed to be doing.

I can’t say the precise second, the exact hour my mind blew. It was a rapid, out of nowhere burn.

When something serious happens to your health something so surreal and uncertain you dig, claw, and dig deeper. You fight. There’s a cosmic shift. Something changes in your core on a molecular level.

Nothing is ever trivial again, coasting is not allowed and everything about you feels strange. You’re different.

I found my way back, returned to my old life. It was fine for a time. Mediocre, but fine. The next break would not let me be the drifter, laid back traveler, not this time. Nope, I had to work hard. This time, I was the paradigm shell.

I had to shed the old, and let her go.

Brutal leaving your identity, friends, city, what you know, the familiar, your favorite pizza joint behind. It can be brutal or it can be something different.

It didn’t matter, I learned. I understood other stuff mattered more; family, well-being, sanity, gardening, solitude, writing, walking the dog. Basics became survival tools.

The voices nagged. You better get your shit together. Don’t fuck up. You’ve got one chance to do something good, something beautiful, something true, something with purpose.

I have always been a writer. It’s my DNA, in my marrow, my blood, my heart and my brain.

The words have always been there.

I wasn’t listening. I just wasn’t listening to them.

The irony is not lost on me.

Most days life kicks you in the ass and you do your best to manage.

Sometimes, indigo sky sunshine and karma throws flecks of silver star-dust your way.

When you lead from the heart, those are the best days.

Every little thing matters.

You can’t know when the stardust might shine.

I’m prettier today, inside out.

“When writing the story of your life, don’t let anyone else hold the pen. ” ― Harley Davidson

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