Michael LaRocca
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About Michael LaRocca
Michael LaRocca was included in the 1982 Who's Who in American Writing before vanishing from the literary scene for 20 years. His published works include a short story anthology, eleven novels, and seven nonfiction works.
Michael lived in China for six years, Thailand for five years, and Vietnam for one year before returning to North Carolina. He's a reading junkie, a bicycle nut, an avid hiker, and an NFL addict. His wife is from Australia and their 19-year-old world-traveling Calico cat is from Hong Kong. He says, "I bring home the best souvenirs."
Michael has been a medical lecturer, an English teacher, a technical editor, a purchasing manager, a computer programmer, a repo man, an unarmed security guard with a bad attitude, a dishwasher, a busboy, a military electronics specialist, a house cleaner, a gas pumper, a car washer, and a pet sitter. He's also been paid to masturbate hogs, but he made sure nobody took photos.
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Titles By Michael LaRocca
Who Can I Blame?
You can blame anybody you want to, actually, but you’re probably lying.
Are you shaped by nature or by nurture? It doesn’t matter, because you control neither of them. However, you can choose how to react to them. That’s how you get past fatalistic victim thinking and start living in earnest. Inertia may be (or seem) easier, but it’s never as satisfying.
Whatever it is, own it. If you don’t own it, you can’t change it.
Here’s something from The Chronicles of a Lost Soul, which I wrote over 30 years ago:
All that we are is the result of what we have thought. Excuses such as religion, race, heredity and upbringing are exactly that – excuses. What we are comes from what we think. So we should learn how to think. The wise man will neither swallow everything blindly nor rebel for the mere sake of rebellion. He will strive to discriminate, to separate the wheat from the chaff, to decide for himself. Obviously, there is a shortage of wise men.
Over 5000 years ago, they crashed into Earth. We worshipped them as gods. Now we do not. There were ten of them. Now there are six. Do you still wonder what you want to be when you grow up? So do they.
They have been shipwrecked here for the past 5500 years. They were the Greek gods, they were King Arthur and his knights, they were the Norse gods, and they were others.
Poseidon is a Navy SEAL. Cronus is a detective. Hephaestus owns a Greek restaurant. Chiron and Asclepius run a free medical clinic. Hermes remains a mystery.
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THE GOD WHO KICKED FATE IN THE ASS
Yes, gods can die. But that doesn't mean they have to.
Astute readers of THE LAST TITAN may have noticed that Hermes / Mercury / Loki vanished from October 2008 through September 2012. THE GOD WHO KICKED FATE IN THE ASS explains what he was doing.
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I snapped the ball to myself and dropped back as all hell broke loose.
Holy shit.
So many bodies coming at me. Big bodies. It seemed like the whole team. I couldn't see shit.
I didn't look at them. Just like crossing the street in China. I looked down the field. The pine, the blocking sled, my guys, the other guys. I got a glimpse of Rotten Roscoe and I flung the damn ball for all it was worth.
Suddenly I was buried in big stinky foreigners – um, fellow Americans of passion and enthusiasm. First I noticed there was no air in my body, then the dizziness, and then the pain. Then the noise. Then my brain latched onto the fact that I was on the ground. My back hurt like hell. My ribs managed to complain a bit too.
The large hairy-faced young man atop me wasn't a teammate.
"You again," I moaned.
He grinned. "Welcome home."
"Ohh," I groaned. "I haven't been tackled in..."
"Years? Didja forget we play tackle?"
"Oh God, I think I did. Oh."
"I'm Tater."
"Nice to meet you."
Then I noticed the happy whooping screaming. That was Rotten Roscoe and Gilroy celebrating a touchdown. Mostly Roscoe.
"What'd you do?" I asked Tater. "Send your whole damn team after me?"
"Pretty much. We didn't think you could throw that fast."
Rotten Roscoe and Gilroy reached me as I got to my feet, with two defenders following at a walk.
I noticed I was the oldest guy out here. And the smallest. Being old felt normal, but being small didn't.
"I can't play anymore," I warned Rotten Roscoe before he could try some kind of macho chest-bump celebration that would've knocked me on my ass. My hand was on my lower back, old injury, although really the pain was very much in my ass. I hobbled my aching ass off toward Daddy's... toward my barn.
"Hey," Rotten Roscoe yelled at my ass. "We play again next Saturday."
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Rule #3:The ground can cause a fumble. If someone loses a ball, it is always a fumble. If you don’t like it, hang on to the damn ball.
Rule #5:The ball is down where the runner lands. There is no such thing as forward progress. If you don’t like it, don’t get knocked backward.
Rule #6:There is no such thing as pass interference. If you don’t like a defender hitting you, hit him back.
We’re all in prison.
Back in the 20th Century, before I was vitrified for a hundred years, I was a prison guard.
I’m on the other side this time.
We have finally learned how to teleport humans through Weinberg Space. Nothing moves faster than the speed of light, but light moves much faster in Weinberg Space than is does in regular space. So do we. Barry Drake and his team are several light years from home, with no starship this time. Stranded.
M13 is over 25,000 light years away.
We never expected a reply.
In 2132, we got one.
Two grains of sand, miles apart. We live on one of those grains. How do we find out what’s on the other?
If you were the first human to communicate with an alien civilization, what would you say?
Only the dead have seen the end of war.
It has been predicted many times that extraterrestrial intelligence would be friendly. It has been predicted many times that extraterrestrial intelligence would be hostile. It has been predicted many times that extraterrestrial intelligence would be supremely indifferent. On a few rare occasions, it has even predicted that extraterrestrial intelligence does not exist.
But to the best of my knowledge, we have never truly believed that we would be far more advanced than that extraterrestrial intelligence.
We never... I never expected that, one day, we might find ourselves thrust into the role of teacher, of mentor, of role model.
That day has not yet arrived. For now, we remain hidden. But one day we will step forward and identify ourselves to the people of Sisyphus. It is my deepest hope that, when that time comes, it will not end as badly as every encounter between a technologically primitive people and a technologically advanced people has ended on this planet.
May the knowledge that we are not alone in the universe inspire us all to find the better angels of our natures.
Rule #5: The ball is down where the runner lands. There is no such thing as forward progress. If you don’t like it, don’t get knocked backward.
Rule #6: There is no such thing as pass interference. If you don’t like a defender hitting you, hit him back.
Astute readers of THE LAST TITAN may have noticed that Hermes / Mercury / Loki vanished from October 2008 through September 2012. THE GOD WHO KICKED FATE IN THE ASS explains what he was doing.
~ US Pentagon official, New York Times, May 13, 1996
“In a surprisingly philosophical novel with a great deal of substance, SKULL DANCE tells of the time after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Berlin becomes an open city with numerous former Russian military members attempting to sell weapons.
“Chris Ramsdorf, a former East German soldier, comes to England and because of his knowledge of weapons of the Eastern Bloc, is hired by M15, British Intelligence. However, he loses his position and goes out on his own dealing weapons and is hired by a group of Russians to dismantle a warhead and extract plutonium. Fearing the weapon might be used against England, Chris tells MI5 about the deal and is told to go along with the Russians.
“He believes a plan is in motion to thwart the deal but something goes wrong and he ends up in a jail in India. Inside the jail, we observe his ideas of life. He's able to cope for a time but when the situation becomes intolerable, he must attempt to gain his freedom.
“There is outstanding character development as we see Chris evolve from a selfish, uncaring person to someone with compassion and empathy for others.”
~ Michael A. Draper, Vine Voice, June 10, 2011
“Gerd Balke asked me to edit five of his novels in 2000. We were living in Hong Kong. We were still working on SKULL DANCE when he died of a sudden heart attack. I stepped into the ‘author’ role and did my best to preserve Gerd’s vision and his voice.
“SKULL DANCE was first published by Novel Books Inc. in 2001, then later by Booktrope. As I give it one more edit and publish it again, I’m amazed by how timely it remains, and how prescient.”
~ Michael LaRocca
“Being born in the aftermath of WWII Germany was perhaps the true catalyst responsible for turning Gerd Balke into a devoted pacifist. A conscientious objector and one-time student activist, he participated in anti-war demonstrations during the seventies in Europe and clearly prefers Rock & Roll over any military hardware.
“He has traveled extensively in Asia, learned to speak several languages, including Chinese and Thai, and always had his heart and soul glued to the pulse of life. He loves the ideology, mysticism and powerful spirituality of the East, which, when fused with Western consciousness, makes up the kind of philosophy he’s interested in. He is devoted to travel and meeting people and would go to Mars if he could get a visa. His spiritual encounters include a stay in a Buddhist Monastery in the Himalayan Mountains and a brush with death on the island of Bali.
“In 1979 he moved to Hong Kong, married a Chinese woman, pursued a professional career in Engineering and studied Kung Fu and Quantum Mechanics for kicks. He loves to discuss life and the secrets of the Universe with people who are equally taken by the subject, and most enthusiastically shares a bottle of Glenmorangie with anyone who dares the challenge.
“He has a license to handle explosives but stubbornly refuses to offer his skills for revolutionary purposes. Instead, he chose the written word to transmit his thoughts. Gerd Balke writes about culture, philosophy and ways of the world. He is an active member of the Hong Kong Writer’s Circle.”
Gerd Balke
(writing about himself in third person)
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