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Independent Book Stores Selling The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry across the USA and Canada

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Good Books Make Great Gifts: The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories And Poetry: Worldwide Market Places

Sold out in some marketplaces and with many retailers over the holidays! Some sellers are restocked, some are on back order, some have special order available. There are, also, new sellers.

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Promotion and Publicity: Quotes, Website Referrers and Affiliates

-Truly, freeing oneself in one’s own mind is only the first step on a path of freedom.-

“All evil seems to arise from the desire to dominate others. Most men in our society are taught from a very early age to try to dominate. It isn’t something that they think about consciously. It operates at a subconscious level. They are taught by the adults around them and their peers. Someone dominates them and they in turn try to dominate others. They do it without even realizing it and they do it without even thinking about why. It is without question. In their conscious awareness they may aspire to grandiose ideals but their actions speak for what really motivates them from a subconscious level.”
― Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez, The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

Publicity

Most sold book January 2020 #78 Meistbestellte Bücher im Januar 2020 #78 The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry https://diebuchsuche.at/mb.php

Most found books in December 2019

Meistgefundene Bücher im Dezember 2019 #14Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez: The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry, EAN bzw. ISBN: 9781543957082, 3120 mal gefunden, 4 mal bestellt, neu um € 7,97 … 30,10, gebraucht um € 11,58 … 86,75 https://diebuchsuche.de/mg.php

Most ordered books in December 2019

Meistbestellte Bücher im Dezember 2019 #98 Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez: The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry, EAN bzw. ISBN: 9781543957082, 3120 mal gefunden, 4 klicks auf “Bestellen”, neu um € 7,97 … 30,10, gebraucht um € 11,58 … 86,75 https://diebuchsuche.ch/mb.php?l=0

Conversation on Social Media in Russia about The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

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McArthur Street: Creative Non-Fiction: Episode One

McArthur Street Downsized

All evil seems to arise from the desire to dominate others.
Most men in our society are taught from a very early age to try
to dominate. It isn’t something that they think about
consciously. It operates at a subconscious level. They are
taught by the adults around them and their peers. Someone
dominates them and they in turn try to dominate others. They
do it without even realizing it and they do it without even
thinking about why. It is without question. In their conscious
awareness they may aspire to grandiose ideals but their actions
speak for what really motivates them from a subconscious
level.
-Mark Alberto Yoder Nuñez

When was it? When I started sixth grade and I was still ten
my older brother, Daniel, the oldest of the family, a year older
than myself, made friends with a boy in his class, Jimmy. It
turned out that Jimmy lived on the next street to the north of
ours, a street called McArthur Street. Our street was called E.
Illinois Street. It was unusual to meet someone who went to
our own school who, also, lived in our neighborhood since we
went to a Catholic, parochial school miles farther away than
the local public school. This was certainly a novelty. So it
was in a mood of high spirits that I went with my older brother
on a warm, Tucson, Saturday morning to visit in a foreign land,
McArthur Street, the street next to ours.

Jimmy was standing in his front yard expecting us. It was
the second house from the end after crossing the street. The
day was already growing hot in the desert climate. Jimmy was
much taller than my brother. He had blonde hair and was very
Caucasian looking with his pale skin. My brother introduced
us. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

I think the first thing that made a serious impression on me
about that first meeting was when Jimmy talked about the boys
who lived in the corner house next to his. It was a neat
looking, little house with a low chain link fence around the
front yard, a nicely mowed lawn and well cultivated flower
beds and shrubbery with a shady tree in front. Jimmy said to
watch out for the boys who lived there because they were
really ba-a-ad. Having never met Jimmy before and being a
child, together with the fact that he seemed an amiable enough
boy, I decided to trust him with the things that he said.

We were looking toward the house across the street and I
saw a very pretty, teenage girl walking in the front walk
towards the front door of the house. She had bouncy, medium
length, dark brown hair and she smiled at me with a big, nice
smile showing her white teeth. Then she went into the house.
Jimmy said that once she went out on a date with a guy on
Saturday night and he didn’t bring her home until the next
morning. I had to think for a moment about what Jimmy was
trying to imply. With the tone in his voice it sounded like he
was trying to put this pretty girl down. I liked her. I wasn’t
going to pay attention to what Jimmy said.

After this we had made our way to the gravel and dirt
driveway of Jimmy’s house. Suddenly a younger boy came
out of the house on the other side of Jimmy’s. He had medium
brown hair and came running up to Jimmy like a happy puppy
excited about meeting new friends. Jimmy said, “This is
John.” Jimmy then promptly started hitting John over the head
with a rolled up newspaper he had picked up from the
driveway. The poor boy ran away crying back into his house.
I was horrified at what I had just seen. Jimmy simply resumed
his conversation and invited us into his house to show us
around.

At this point I suppose had we been a little older and more
experienced in life we would have seriously started to wonder
about Jimmy. However since we were charged with the
euphoria of something that is so important to children at that
age, making a new friend, together with how nice Jimmy acted
towards us, we accepted his friendship. We went with him into
his house, met his mother and accepted his hospitality.

It wasn’t too long after this that one Saturday my brother
took me along with Jimmy to meet another friend of theirs on a
long trek, miles away, beyond St. John’s school. This boy was
named John, too. He was in the same grade as my brother and
Jimmy. He had brown hair and was tall like Jimmy. John had
a nice, big house with a very large yard and an apple orchard
adjacent. He took us out in the middle of the orchard. It was
cool and pleasant under the shade of the apple trees. John had
very short hair like a crew-cut and stood up very straight. He
actually seemed slightly taller than Jimmy. John was the kind
of guy who wore buttoned sweaters and sometimes would wear
a turtle neck dickie under his shirt. He was very conservative
looking. This was the mid-sixties era. John seemed like an
intellectual, scientific looking kind of a guy. He seemed
almost a bit aristocratic in the way he spoke. Walking back
toward his house John pointed out his tree house in the back
yard. It wasn’t like our tree house in our back yard which was
just a wooden platform in the tree limbs made of scrap wood.
John’s tree house had plywood walls and a roof. John had
electricity and a television in his tree house.

We went into John’s house and Jimmy and John suggested
that we play a board game called Risk. They wanted to be on
one team and have my brother and me be on the other team.
Not knowing any better we agreed. It didn’t occur to us at the
time that Jimmy and John knew how to play the game and we
didn’t.

In this game there was a map of the world and various
armies in different colors with equal numbers of pieces. Each
team member received two armies and the world was divided
evenly between the two teams with an equal number of
countries. At the beginning of the game each team was
supposed to distribute its armies across all of its countries.

My brother and I logically assumed that we should
distribute our armies as evenly as possible in all the different
areas to protect against attacks. John and Jimmy to our
surprise left the minimum of one army in most of their
countries and massed the bulk of their armies in a few areas.
We soon found out why. Everything was decided by the roll of
the dice but besides the roll of the dice odds were taken into
account based on the number of armies engaged in each battle.
So therefore the roll of the dice could be in our favor but the
odds in terms of the number of armies could be so
overwhelming that we would still lose the battle. While we
were losing armies they were gaining armies. We of course in
our turn attacked only their countries that had minimum
protection and kept gaining countries while they were only
losing one army at a time. It wasn’t long that we had control
over most of the world but had lost most of our armies. The
armies we had left were thinly spread while Jimmy and John
had armies massed in a few areas. The tide of the battles
turned completely against us as the odds were so high against
us that we soon were losing every battle. Even when it was our
turn to attack we were faced with battles we couldn’t win.

At this point we wanted to just quit and end the game. John
and Jimmy said that we couldn’t and that we had to finish the
game. We finished out the game to satisfy our new found
friends but we were reduced to a state of total demoralization.
Even when I asked again to quit the game they were insistent
that we had to finish the game. I couldn’t help but wonder
what kind of people are these? If they had wanted a good
game they would have had an inexperienced person on the
same team with someone who knew the game. Instead they
wanted to crush and dominate. They weren’t interested in a
fair game.

Continued on:

https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2019/08/03/mcarthur-street-episode-two/

From The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry. EBook for free in exchange for a review on Noise Trade!

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New Poem: Diana, The Huntress

Diana Downsize 2

Diana, the Huntress, walks in the ancient forest, stalking
And where she walks is silence
Poised and stealthy, silent as the ancient forest, itself
Disturbing not the dried leaves or breaking even a single twig
Ever vigilant, aware
Senses heightened
The silence of Her stealth
And the silence of the ancient forest are as one and the same
In the time of Her stalking
For Diana, the Huntress is hunting
And there is no prey
For Diana is a Goddess
Everywhere She hardly touches
The air barely feels Her breathing
As she moves through ancient ferns
Beneath ancient trees, along paths long forgotten
The mightiest of the forest revere Her and are humble
As She reaches for Her arrow and pulls it from Her quiver
In one graceful movement She fits the arrow to the bow
She draws back on the arrow
Bowstring taut as tawny muscle and sinew
She pauses, intent
The universe stands still and breathless
Even as She checks Her breathing to be sure Her aim will not
go astray
As it cannot for She is a Goddess
She looks straight down the shaft
Gently the bowstring slips from Her fingers
Skillfully as She has done since before the beginning of time
She lets the arrow fly
This arrow will never falter or go astray
Will never lose speed or fall to the earth
But this arrow will never find its mark
It is its destiny to keep circling the world
Forever restlessly searching, searching forever

 

Podcast available @  Mark’s Poetry Readings!  

Now available on Noise Trade  and Goodreads!

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The Lonely Bird: A poem by Mark Alberto Yoder Nuñez

The Spider Lady Cover

 
The night is perilous, dark and cold
The lonely bird sits perched on his roost up above in the
highest branches of the Tree
Keeping still, trying to stay warm
Eyes sometimes closed, sometimes opened very narrowly
Alert, wary of the slithering or gentle padding
The rustling that is not the gentle, night breeze
The anxious breath held in check of creeping, predatory night
creatures
The feline stealth, the restless serpent tongue
The night so dark and ominous as it were Eternal and never
again the glad sight of familiar Day to be seen
The chill, morning dew oppressing the Spirit
But at last the slowly growing light of the Dawn
The bird feels rested, the Spirit renewed, as the fingers of
darkness and chill retreat Optimism returns
He shakes the dew from body and wings, his heart soars with
gladness at the prospect of a New Day
Then what notion is this? He’s already begun to sing
A joyful but lonely song peculiar only to him
The same song but the song is never exactly the same
And he can’t help but praise himself for the unique beauty of
his own song
Soon he hears another song and another and another
Soon he is but one voice among choruses of songs
Different melodies but with brilliant counterpoint
As the Morning grows brighter and warmer
The humming and buzzing of insects joins the orchestra
But the clever bird is the master musician, varying his song to
each nuance of the symphony
He freely improvises across his vast accompaniment
Sometimes in the foreground, sometimes diminishing
Allowing a dramatic pause then rejoicing with renewed
exuberance and vigor
His joyful but lonely song is true, an Inspiration
Then the Music has built to its crescendo, spiritual fulfillment
achieved
The Song begins to rest
Some birds still chirp, crows caw, another Day
The lonely bird takes to the Freedom of Flight
He does not know what the New Day will bring
But he knows before the Day is ended he must fly high

 

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Book Review: Reviews of The Search for the Manchurian Candidate: The CIA and Mind Control: The Secret History of the Behavioral Sciences

Read my latest book review:

Reviews of The Search for the Manchurian Candidate: The CIA and Mind Control: The Secret History of the Behavioral Sciences by John Marks

Excerpts:

“This book points out that the CIA was involved in funding every type of psychological research that was being done since the 1950s.”

“I was amazed years later when I spoke of this book that people said there was a movie about it. Don’t be fooled. I am convinced the movie was a clever ploy to keep people from reading this original work by John Marks. This is a must read.”

To read the full review click here!