ANGEL ZAPATA ATTUNEMENT = "WHEN A WRITER MEETS A WRITER COMIN' THROUGH THE WRY"

ANGEL ZAPATA

  ATTUNEMENT =

"WHEN A WRITER MEETS A WRITER COMIN' THROUGH THE WRY"

~ encounter by Absolutely*Kate

Location: GEORGIA

Action: VITALIZING

Remembrance: FOREVER

Roll camera. Hampton Inn.

Pour coffee. Keep it comin.

Here come our protagonists now ~

It was a dark and stormy night . . . No, No, NO!  It was a HOT and abundantly sunny day. "You never get used to the heat, no matter what they say," offered up the non-cliche mortal from the Big Apple who fell in love with a Georgia goddess peach and rolled with his big heart to the rockin' rhythms of deep down South where Ray Charles croons and the Waffle Houses proliferate on desired streetcorners like ... like ... trees. Well, that's what Angel assures me and after finally meetin' up with the savvy dude from swirlcomestances of fate proving (once again) There is no such thing as a coincidence . . . I wouldn't ever doubt this guy's astute utterances. 

Astute?  Big time.  
Bridging multi-genres?  Absolutely. 

ANGEL IS NO APPARITION. Magda photo

Impressive? In a quiet sense of time where time passes by and you wish it never to fizzle and end -- yeah, that kind of impressive. A time your thoughts zap and zing and you feel the moment tug as warmly natural as the hug you just came out of when you met the man not needing a strut to walk his character through the doors of a normal day hotel lobby. He's dressed like Johnny Cash with a train o' thought a'comin. You sense a kinship with writers knowing writers right out loud everywhere. You dash ideas and listen to the said and the unsaid and the quantum mood fuels the air and the coffee in the big container marked robust keeps on a'comin'. You experience attunement in the laughter that whoops out in simultanea when our camera-man takes meticulous to new art forms. You wonder if such emanates as an inner response mechanism which psyches remembered eons before we ever approached this meeting, this moment. 

INTENSITY MEETS BEHOLDER.  ~ Magda photo

He

put

a

spell

  on

me,

did

AZ.

 Yes, I met Angel Zapata, legendary more-than-horror writer, emotions evoker, poetry man of brushstrokes in the colour of linger. Yes, that's precisely and prolifically what his words do. If you've read him, you already know. If you've yet to read him, you're getting ready for the stuff that treats (and tricks?) are made for. His word paintings linger past mists, graves, holograms, screams, howls, soft sighs and below the rumble of psyche rising. The linger stirs thought patterns around and I believe commands them (gently) to resonate out in a whole new array. Gazillions of gruesome and graceful Zapata words in supremacy linger for your carouse at his dark delightful outtasite site, A RAGE OF ANGEL. Evidence of alchemy, how his mind churns mere pentanglings to meaningful magic, exists at the latest rage for scribes, his tight terrific creation of ~ 5x5. 

FACT: Five by five is the best of 25 possible subjective responses used to describe the quality of communications, specifically the signal-to-noise ratio. As receiving stations move away from an analog radio transmitting site, the signal strength decreases gradually while noise levels increase. The signal becomes increasingly difficult to understand until it can no longer be heard as anything other than static.

Thus 5x5 Fiction is that told (and presented), loud and clear. I told you the fella was astute, didn't I?  Doesn't take a wikapedia or a wiki-horror trove Angel told me a clever guy is keeping cross currents on, to multiply that equation. It just adds up. 


That all summarized, sit back, imagine getting to know the more a respected colleague, a fellow presenter of writers on the rise. Across a little table in a big space is all the genuine gracing the gust of an Augusta moment. That's hanging out with a writer whose depth of deft can be sensed without sensing . . . is only scratching the surface of the itch he's turning out in Writers' Worlds ~

Panic Press presents, The Man of Shadows, a horror short story collection by Angel Zapata. From the wicked predilections of children to the varied manifestations of evil personified, The Man of Shadows will have you running for the light. Click to purchase on Amazon.

Angel's premier collection, The Man of Shadows shows man not myth exploring greater fear factors. When we met, I pulled no punches in sweet resource management; pulling forth a colourful array of sugar packets to illustrate tableside the prolifics and ramifications of writers sailing higher the destinies of writers in the upcoming HARBINGER*33. I told you the man's astute, didn't I? He saw the enrichment of the final chapter, "THE TREASURE CHEST" a brimming coffer of availability of the books and sensations of 33 stellar authors featured in stories and as personnas on the starboard side, as well as 33 heralds' glistening gold where their writings are told (and sold). He heard these heralds' voices at the rail ~ 33 salutes from writers to writers sailing destinies. He telescoped his "Aye" to eye the magnitude of 33 ports of call where multitudes of authors stretch their scribing tendencies. The quantum promotion/publishing touting his well-deserved talents and oh so many more is the stuff authoring destinies are made for ~

Writers Sailing Writers' Destinies
A Herald of Greatness to be.

~ Badge of honour by Laurita Miller

Hitting horizons. Then exceeding them.  Billowing sails with wonder taking on far-reaching fair winds. Angel Zapata, I predict, shall exceed any genre his AmaZing mind expresses to the worlds he is destined to reach. 

ABRACADABRA BACKATCHA ~ Zapata pic

Believing in believers, I realize the import of happening to be in Angel's home port on a trip taken to bolster family. There's no such thing as coincidence, and my hero Dad is on target once more in teaching by example ~ The true riches we carry are the people we are fortunate to know the more in our lives' journeys. I'm fortunate to know the wonders of writers. I'm fortunate and grateful to know Angel Zapata yet the more, and that Harry Sanderford rogue surfer/cowboy who phoned right into our meeting of the energized minds. Now I wonder how that happened? 

So when are you and I going to encounter?

Trust your fates to those winds.

There are days you just meet Angels. ~ Pilarcik pic

<-- What HE said before she said is still hanging up on his raging walls right here!

~ Absolutely*Kate,

returning next weekend with ~
  THE VILLAGE SMITHY
. . . as time travels on . . .

Itch A Sketch ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33

Itch A Sketch 

~ by Absolutely*Kate

It was never what she said ~ it was how she said it. The lean into look, the swallow the eyes heart, the come and beckon some more whisper. And he wanted it . . . around his hard edges, softening into new designs. Back to the drawing board . . . it was always back to the drawing board. His mind sketched what his yearnings defined . . . and most of the time visualization went past where mere T-square refined.

To manifest his destiny, he knew he had to step up by stepping in ~ outline the virility of poignancy past bold frames frozen in how-it-had-always-been . . . Jasper's will to win had vibrance in its palette, display fonts in affrontage and CAPS shifting to divine his higher-self. Only from within . . . depths yet unmined . . . could and would Jasper G. enrich eternity's pull of fair Genevieve in kind. Would the way justify his means; no guilt for gilt? Ode and opus to joy unfettered, to the OtherWorld he would draw forth allegiance to his Elysian Fields. What his mind’s eye saw . . . hunkered down Jasper indefatigably did draw ~

Gods and goddesses heard and were stirred by his lead penciled plea. Scratch, scratch, itch, itch ~ speak well it did of yearning he. His sketch was seen, his glimmer gleaned. For before the morning, comes the Moirae . . .

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Daughters of Zeus and Themis, named as “parts” of how Fate weave-wonders whole, the goddesses Moirae took up discussion of Jasper for Genevieve to conjure where brave be bold. Klotho, the Spinner remanded, “There is an inescapable destiny to mere mortal man - - “, cut off succinctly by Lakesis, Apportioner of Lots. Measuring the thread of Life, Lakesis murmered her return, “But all may share in the scheme of things.”, and let loose a longer tangle. Atropos, known as ‘She who cannot be turned’, gauged wisely and cut the looser thread of life. Her scissor points raised high, sharp gleams  of celestial light perforated her vision, “True sisters, true – in human affairs, we cannot abruptly interfere, yet when we deem the sincere we may avail of intermediate causes. Fate is not inflexible. Eternal laws take course, of course, but nay not absolutely, only conditionally comes obstruction. In his freedom, even mortal man himself may draw a certain influence upon them . . . this left up to the truths of his deduction.”

The prophetic deities had their day . . . Klotho carried forth her spindle roll – the book of fate, turning pages to chapter change. Lakhesis pointed her staff to a specific horoscope upon the globe, nodding once, decision told. Atropos glanced at her wax tablet and reconfigured derivations, consulted her sundial to diminish a shadow, and double’found justice in her pair of scales. The cut was made. The cyclic nature of human destiny went round, for there is no trifling with the goddess sisters – they deign design the divine:

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  

The soul of heroics varies you know, from author to artist, from plume to pen. Release percussions a powerful if not timpanic conundrum, by Zeus, as a tenacious ruler guided Jasper past fated men. Lightening strikes where man must have his fate ~ thus Jasper's parchment paper snap-crackled far into the late. Ticonderoga #2 met Eberhard in a rubber match with no taint to overshadow delight. SOULS ENTERTWINED was what sketched J. Gestalt in white space both clean and pure. Amour to be could not demur. Today's tomorrow revealed visions and prophecies in what came writ 'pon one man's script and scripture. To live, to love, to grasp, to grow, to tantalize past where incessant primordial courses flow.

In a studio down the hall, despite the hour, the fair Genevieve feels Jasper's deep devour. Portals work that way when itch be etch, when new realities open form from function’s derivative sketch. Sweet magic frees fire's re-embered desire . . . one to the other, time spiral-threads the higher.

No knocks for a door pushed open.

Doubt dispelled . . . his gaze she held.
BLISS  . . . be immortality's finest friend.

The end?  Nay, but beginning of this beguine . . . should you know what I mean.

(c) Absolutely*Kate, 2009 . . . with more to be in HARBINGER*33