| aaronmcnees: weblog - photos - videos - audio - pulse - profile - subscribe! |
|
Wednesday, May 23, 2012 "Lord Buddha" by Jolly Rastafari
|
|
|
| xanga - your site - terms - privacy - jobs - help - press - join - Language |
| safety - parents - law enforcement |
| report inappropriate content |
My intention was to strip myself naked and to let people read what has really happened to a people who once lived on pride, and you can find it in the most incidental ways, in the old volunteer roses and day lilies that come in sprays around the homes of mountains and valleys, in the stories of the people you strike up a conversation with at a store where RC and moon pies are still staples, not luxuries, and along the trails which were originally made by the cattle that grazed there and the people who led them home, for something remains of beauty most places if one can open their heart. But I wanted to tell people what my world was really like, about class systems, about a government who kept us in the dark, for it was known that we were private, and we would get whipped in one way or the other by complaining. We are a history, and we are a people for whom America has used for butts of jokes for as long as memory will take me, so I have emphasized that part of my book; A history, and a people, and what it meant to be a Bible Belt child. The word belt is so appropriate.
I humbly ask that you do take a look at my work, "Pinkhoneysuckle," for I have suffered already just writing it, because it stripped away to stark body and bone the layers of what people think about a place broadly known as Appalachia, but with valleys and cores where crimes against women and children are still sanctioned as if it is what God asks of believers, and in endeavoring to open the history and the truth I have not got the help which I could by advertising this as some trash white girl coming of age in Washington, D.C. and getting the royal, "Fuck," a favored word to sell books.
If you could look at my book and my brother's beautiful prologue which I included, so the young men's stories would have the respect they need also, then I would be most greatful. The 400 plus pages is far shorter than people expect, for I did it in an easier to read print, for my own vision decline merits this as a good idea as I grow older. I need the help so very much, and I promise you all that the five stars people have given me are not sypathy stars but earned. I beg you to consider by book, and I am honored to have won the award in San Francisco from that 2012 Book Festival under biography/autobiography, so as you gather among intellectual and free spirits; Please, do consider my book, and if I can help you in any way, you can just message me through Xanga. I am all yours as the need arises to bring home the truth of the southern Appalachians from those who own the Tennessee Walking Horses to those who keep snakes to show their lack of fear of the devil in their worship close at hand for praising the Lord. I need an open door, but I do not want it to open at the expense of having my novel looked at as a trash sex guide for the young girls who do not have a clue about what love making even means.
Let me hear how your festival goes. We are returning to our home in mid-June in San Francisco, my husband's home place. Yours was a letter of mercy to me on this day, for I know I need a large group to get the word out about my book and to awaken the nation to a people who have been left to destroy themselves and the old home places for more than half a century. Just for convenience: My author's name is Barbara Everett Heintz, and the book, "Pinkhoneysuckle," is available through Amazon, Kindle, and Create Space, and Indies wherever I can leave it, and my first buyer was, "Dog Earred Books," in San Francisco, a mainly used book store along with; "Shake It," in Cincinnati, which is mainly an alternative book store. My help seems to come through unusual sources by the average person's eyes, but truth has always spread that way; Has it not?
Thank you, and please; "Yes," remember me, and I send blessings for the very though that I would be considered.
Your Friend, An Old "60's," version of whatever a hippie was,
Barb Heintz