Jim Steele- Pop Culture, Novels, Short Stories… and a little bit of everything else! Jim Steele’s style as an Author has been described as “raw, disturbing, and powerful”.
If you own one of those old fashioned, double sided safety razors, you’ll have an excuse for at least some of the paraphernalia laying around when the cops bust the door down
These things run on regular razor blades, which are always handy to have around. I’m not saying that IF you have a razor blade and a mirror then your dicing up dope. What I am saying is that IF you’re dicing up dope, make sure you’ve got a shaving kit in the bathroom, keep it all in there. No cop in his right mind is gonna root through a shaving mug, with that disgusting horse hair brush and crusty soap, looking around for illicit substances. You want to try and blend in a little, and if you can’t do that, then try the old adage of hiding stuff in plain sight.
Did I mention that razor blades have many different, perfectly legal uses? Yeah, I’m sure there are plenty.
On the wall of my office, hangs a beautiful portrait of a lovely young lady. It is the only picture of a woman, other than my wife or family members that I have. If I had to guess, I would say that it will be the only one of “another lady” that would ever be allowed, now or in the future, to reside on any wall in the house, let alone the wall directly opposite my desk. I am confident that the only reason my wife allows it to stay is twofold– the first part being that she knows that, for whatever reason, I like it; and secondly, I am usually the only one in my office, and my dear wife never really has to look at it… at her. “Her”, or that “lady”, a generic descriptive is all that I know of her, of the portrait. I have no idea, nor will I ever, of the origin or name of the lady in the portrait. It is a mystery. She is a mystery. However, to me, it is a grand mystery, one that is better left unsolved. To solve it… to know of her… to place her, would be to ruin her forever.
It’s all that divides me from the outside world, and vice versa. In the window of my office, built long before double pane and vacuumed sealed units filled with argon gas, the window is but ¼ inch thick, and in the grand scheme of things, that is a substantial barrier.
I awoke this morning to a sharp realization in which I compared my time in San Francisco this last year alongside the personal relationships in my life… of family, friends, and acquaintances. I mean, we’re all interconnected to some degree, and at different junctures, the severity and/or intimacy only depending on the particular person or relationship in question. If this weren’t the case, then how would we be related at all?
At any rate– I was struck by the recollection that even though I spent approximately 4 months in San Francisco, known by the locals as “the City”, I was dismayed for not having pursued the City’s identity sooner.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words- unless it’s a picture of the Ocean. The Sea appears as an endless expanse, constantly changing, calm at times and violent at others. It ebbs and flows, coming and going, and however chaotic- follows the order of life.
The Pacific ~ Jim Steele
Viewed in that way, that picture- much like our lives- is now worth more than a million words, and an absolute meaning will never be achieved. Still, as a writer I try to put into words what others may hear, see, or feel. I attempt to convey emotions: Love, Hate, Bravery, Fear- Birth, Life, Death, and Dying.
It all goes together. We are all made up of millions of bits and pieces, put into words.
Listen as I tell our Story.
I do not sugar coat anything. I write as raw and as unpolished as my life and those around me
have been. As the reader, you need to be prepared for what you’re getting ready to wade into.
You won’t come back out the same.
I want to make you apprehensive, waiting for what comes around the corner. My goal is for you
to see what I see- it’s a wanderlust at every sunrise, and a sense of defeat at every sunset; a
feeling that no matter what you do, it will never be enough. To be content is akin is akin to
being comfortable, and comfort is not an option I’ve had. Instead, I would rather you have a
feeling of trepidation than some predisposed notion of safety.
Stephen King said that he recognizes “Terror as the finest emotion”. I agree and I’ll play that
card all day long. Laughter subsides, Love can fade, but Terror- Terror and Fear remains until
the bitter end and it’s all around us. It’s a constant in our lives, and is there whether the story is
one of romance, horror, or adventure. A terror of the unknown is why we cry at birth. Likewise,
that same unknown, the terror of not knowing where we might be traveling to, or possibly the
fear of where we think we may be headed- is what makes us hide from it all at the hour of our
Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2021 
