Italy Fiction – The Grape Harvest Part 7

An exploration of Italy Fiction - The Grape Harvest Part 7 is the story of a newly published author, his daughter, and their passion for Italian food, life, and danger.

Here is a link to Part 6

Italy Fiction - The Grape Harvest Part 7
The Grape Harvest

SCENE 1

Mike really enjoyed driving the Ape. As close to wine as he was he had never been a winemaker and the discomfort of the sulfured-overalls did not affect the joy he derived from the costume. Much like a play from his youth dressing the part somehow made him the character. This was a dress rehearsal for deception and Mike would have it no other way. [Read more...]

The Grape Harvest – Italy Travel Fiction Part 6

The Grape Harvest Part 6 is the continuation of my Italy Travel Fiction segment that I began in April. This is a 7-10 part series following Mike, a newly successful author along his travels in Italy. Do not let the innocuous description steer you away from this story of introspection, compulsion, and deviance. Here are links to the first 5 chapters.

Parts - One - Two - Three - Four - Five

The Grape Harvest - Piedmont Travel Fiction Part 6

The Sacrament

Previously - Mike fired another round through the bridge of the German’s nose and he died. At that moment the iPhone text tone sounded and the message said “have you finished your business Dad? ready for that walk?”

He stared at the message all too aware that Viola was wandering through the vineyards with the winemaker and waiting on him to join. 4 gunshots although muffled a bit by the thick walls and the annoying bathroom exhaust fan were more than a little obvious. In the quiet space that exists only in the most fleeting moments Mike knew he had to go. Viola would have to forgive her father again for an unannounced departure which gave him a sad pause. [Read more...]

The Grape Harvest Part 5 – Piedmont Travel Fiction

The Grape Harvest Part 5 is the continuation of my Italy Travel Fiction segment that I began in April. This is a 7-10 part series following Mike, a newly successful author along his travels in Italy. Do not let the banal description steer you away from this story of introspection, compulsion, and deviance. Here are links to the first 4 chapters.

Parts - OneTwoThreeFour

The Grape Harvest Part 5 - Piedmont Travel Fiction

A Good Read

Mike: (to Viola) you knew that Roberto had truffles today didn’t you?

Viola: I AM my father’s daughter

Mike: he still gets these via trade; his guy told him that he could get $1500 each for the small fist truffles but that because the winery had been so good to him in the lean years that there would never be any wavering in the agreement which dated back 22 years to the first November after Roberto’s father fell ill.

Viola: Roberto’s poem on the winery wall?

Mike: yeah, perhaps the most compelling argument that life and our direction is not nearly so neat as we would like to make it. Roberto was a successful man, but family….

Viola: I love you Dad

Mike: are you sure?

Viola: you silly, silly man, with the big dangerous imagination…you know I am not going to repeat myself [Read more...]

The Grape Harvest Part 4 – Italy Travel Fiction

The Grape Harvest Part 4 is the continuation of my Italy Travel Fiction segment that I began in April. This is a 7-10 part series following Mike, a newly successful author along his travels in Italy. Do not let the banal description steer you away from this story of introspection, compulsion, and deviance. Here are links to the first 3 chapters.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 

The Grape Harvest Part 4 - Italian Travel Fiction

Fall in the Vineyards

Mike unconsciously swallowed the remaining milky remnants of the cheese as he gulped to speak to the beautiful young woman staring right into his face.

Mike – Viola, how did you know I was here?

Viola – Daddy, you may be the author of Italy’s most hidden gems, but you are certainly not Italy’s most hidden writer

Mike – Miranda?

Viola – you know she loves me

Mike – secretary, mother, and principal…3 for one salary

Viola – give her a break she would not share that info with just anyone

Mike – Perugia?

Viola – its cool

Mike – la tua Italiano?

Viola - meglio

Mike – your mother?

Viola - non ce male

Mike – good, I am glad she is well…..hungry?

Viola – of course [Read more...]

My Dinner with Malcolm Gladwell (Epilogue)

Making a Living

Bounty hunter #1: You’re wanted, Wales.
Josey Wales: Reckon I’m right popular. You a bounty hunter?
Bounty hunter #1: A man’s got to do something for a living these days.
Josey Wales: Dyin’ ain’t much of a living, boy.

- The Outlaw Josey Wales

TUESDAY: I had to come up with a plan. It had to be fate that Malcolm “Blink”ing Gladwell rolled up next to me at the Catalina having what appeared to be a cappuccino while looking nervously at his computer screen. I could leave him alone, or I could see what he was all about. This is Texas, and we are nosy, chatty, and very much want to tell people about ourselves; therefore, if I just start a chat it will either become a legitimate chat, or possibly one of the suicide scenes from Airplane. I took a shot of Rwanda to instill some bravery and —–I quickly decided that if it was fate I would indeed see him here again and we might even have a meaningful chat.

[Read more...]

My Dinner with Malcolm Gladwell (Part 3)

“and now…the rest of the story”

Paul Harvey

Scared to Death

As soon as Gladwell was gone I took a big swig of my now very cold Rwanda and gazed up at the barista. He must have seen the stupid grin on my face because he gave me a “why the hell are you so happy?” look.

Me: Do you know who that was?

Barista: No, should I?

Me: That was Malcolm Gladwell, one of the most important American writers in the world (realizing that was totally sycophantic before it left my mouth)

Barista: Cool, I have seen him in here a few times before

Me: Yeah, I think he is researching here (like I knew something)

Barista: I always thought he was pretty weird-looking.

Me: (Thinking Barista not exactly the picture of normalcy) Yeah, he is amazing..one of my idols…..I decided to announce that I am becoming a writer today and then he appears here man, and I am like, wow this is fate man, this the real fucking deal..seriously Malcolm Gladwell..wait man..wait

Barista: (confused) excuse me?

Me: Sorry dude, gotta get out of here, Gladwell’s coming to dinner (as I am hustling out) [Read more...]

My Dinner with Malcolm Gladwell (Part 2)

…he smiled to himself, adjusted his laptop screen downward hiding his work, turned his chair in my direction and told me…

Just Threw this Together

MG – I find it curious how often I am asked that question..uhm…uh..

Me – Michael…(beat) don’t worry man I am sure you forget quite a few names

MG – (cutting me off) No I don’t. I forget very few names and even fewer faces

Me – Would you say you had spent 10,000 hours getting to that level of mastery with names? (smiling to myself as I knew I had him on that one)

MG – Yes, for sure. Imagine that I have been writing for the New Yorker since 1996 and imagine the number of interviews I have conducted; with and without the assistance of recording equipment

Me – What are you drinking?

MG – Excuse me?

Me – What kind of coffee drink are you drinking?

MG – Oh, this is a cappuccino with a little less textured milk, so really it is more like a latte’ without so much milk…

Me – Or a cappuccino without schiuma

MG -What was that?

Me – Schiuma, the Italian name for the foam. Italians don’t go down the path of naming things cutely just to make a menu sound better. I mean, an Italian will use many words to describe something, but taking license with the structure of the language seems pretty Anglo [Read more...]

My Dinner with Malcolm Gladwell (Part 1)

The Blissful Adventurer - Michael Housewright

The Top Coffee Shop in Houston

On Tuesday afternoon I went into my beloved Catalina coffee for an afternoon pour-over of their fabulous Rwanda coffee that had recently arrived. I had just eaten a below-average lunch at a “hot” joint on Wash-Av and needed a dose of quality in my diet to assuage the misery in my still hungry stomach. At my sad lunch I had ordered a Ceviche and a Mushroom tamale for my lunch. My server came to my table moments later with tamale in-hand and informed me that the kitchen had dropped my Ceviche and would be re-making it. I informed him very politely that I really wanted the cold ceviche before my warm tamale and he obligingly took it back and very likely stuck in under a lamp. [Read more...]

Wednesday Surprise – Limericks and Images

For Hyacinth

I found your flower on this aged image

in the restroom of a hipster douche dive

I could not have been more pleased

With its pistils and leaves

which confirmed you are most certainly

alive. [Read more...]

A Creative Pause – Monday Morning Meditation

A stirring week of fortune has left me creatively bankrupt.

I seek home and the familiar places of solace.

Yet it has been some time since I knew this place on a map. [Read more...]